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AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


OF 


SAMUEL  D.  GROSS,  M.D. 


IN   TWO    VOLUMES. 


VOL.  I. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


Samuel  D.  Gross,  m.d.. 

D.  C.  L.  OXON.,  LL.D.   CANTAB  ,  EDIN,,  JEFF.  COLL.,  UNIV.  PA.,  EMERITUS  PROFESSOR  OF 
SURGERY  IN  THE  JEFFERSON  MEDICAL  COLLEGE  OP  PHILADELPHIA. 


REMINISCENCES  OF 


HIS  TIMES  AND  CONTEMPORARIES. 


EDITED   BY 


Samuel  VV.  Gross,  M.D.,  LL.D.,  late  Professor  of  the  Principles 

of  Surgery  and  Clinical  Surgery  in  the  Jefferson  Medical  College,  and 

A.  Haller  Gross,  A.M.,  of  the  Philadelphia  Bar. 


IN     TWO     VOLUMES. 


VOLUME  L 


PHILADELPHIA: 
W.    B.    SAUNDERS, 

913  Walkdt  Street. 
1893. 


COPYRIGHT,  1887,  BY  GEORGE  BARRIE. 


PRINTING-OFFICE  OF  THE   PUBLISHER 


NOTE  BY  THE  SURVIVING  EDITOR. 


In  consequence  of  an  arrangement  entered  into  between 
Mr.  George  Barrie  and  Mr.  W.  B.  Saunders,  the  well-known 
publisher  of  medical  books  in  this  city,  Mr.  Saunders  has 
become  the  proprietor  and  the  publisher  of  the  present  edition 
of  the  Autobiography  of  the  late  Professor  Samuel  D. 
Gross. 

Mr.  Saunders's  unusual  facilities  for  communicating  directly 
with  the  members  of  the  Medical  and  Surgical  Profession  in 
the  United  States  will  enable  him  to  meet  the  demand  for  this 
well-known  work. 

Since  the  first  copies  were  issued,  one  of  the  Editors,  the 
late  Dr.  Samuel  W.  Gross,  in  the  midst  of  a  life  of  exceptional 
usefulness  and  of  honor,  has  died.  The  surviving  Editor  desires 
to  express  his  gratification  with  the  numerous  and  singularly 
flattering  notices  which  the  book  has  received  from  periodicals 
and  journals  both  in  the  United  States  and  in  Europe.  Few 
Autobiographies  or  Memoirs  have  been  the  subject  of  criticism 
so  impartial  and  so  complimentary.  While  the  larger  class  of 
its  readers  will  probably  be  found  among  the  members  of  the 
profession  of  which  Dr.  Gross  was  so  signal  an  ornament,  still 
the  flowing  ease  of  its  style  and  the  original  manner  in  which 


topics  of  equal  interest  to  the  layman  and  to  the  strictly  pro- 
fessional man  are  treated,  must  commend  it  to  all  those  who 
care  to  be  informed  of  the  trials,  struggles,  and  successes  of 
one  of  the  foremost  men  of  his  day,  who,  if  through  filial  love 
and  pride  its  Editor  may  be  permitted  to  quote  from  a  criticism 
of  this  work  in  the  London  '.'Spectator,"  is  said  to  have  been 
"perhaps  the  most  eminent  exponent  of  medical  science  that 
America  has  yet  produced."  And  his  Sketches  of  the  many 
distinguished  men  of  America  and  Europe,  whom  he  met  in 
his  long  and  eventful  career,  will,  as  has  been  stated  by  one 
of  his  critics,  "  serve  as  a  map  of  contemporaneous  society." 

A.   HALLER  GROSS. 


II 15  Walnut  Street, 

Philadelphia,  Nov.  24111,  1892, 


PREFACE. 


In  submitting  to  the  public  the  Autobiography  of 
Dr.  Samuel  D.  Gross,  the  Editors  deem  it  due  to  the 
memory  of  their  Father  to  state  that  death  alone  prevented 
him  from  giving  to  the  work  that  careful  revision  which 
is  so  noteworthy  a  feature  of  his  previous  productions. 

A  large  part  of  the  preliminary'  jMemoir  of  Dr.  GROSS 
was  read  by  the  late  Professor  Austin  Flint  before  the 
American  IMedical  Association  at  its  meeting  held  in 
Washington  in  May,  1885. 

The  Editors  tender  their  hearty  thanks  to  John  W. 
Huff,  Esq.,  an  old  friend  of  Dr.  Gross,  for  valuable 
assistance  kindly  rendered  by  him  during  the  passage  of 
the  work  through  the  press;  to  GEORGE  Barrie,  Esq., 
the  Publisher,  who  has  spared  neither  expense  nor  trouble 
to  make  the  mechanical  features  of  the  book  attractive  to 
the  reader;  and  to  James  Beatty,  Esq.,  for  zealous  ser- 
vices contributed  by  him. 

SAMUEL  W.   GROSS, 
A.  HALLER  GROSS. 

Philadelphia,  April,   1887. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  I. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Object  of  the  Work — Birth  and  Childhood — School-days — Amuse- 
ments— Early  Desire  to  be  a  Physician — Enter  upon  the  Study  of 
Medicine — Turning-point  in  Life — Return  to  School — Academy 
at  Wilkesbarre — Study  Greek  through  the  Medium  of  Latin — 
Dislike  of  Mathematics — Fond  of  Languages — Judge  Jones's 
Family — Narrow  Escape  from  Drowning — Academy  in  New  York 
— Lawrenceville  High  School — Lafayette i  to  25 

CHAPTER   IL 

Choice  of  Profession  —  Study  Medicine  —  Study  French  —  Health 
Fails — Visit  Niagara  Falls  —  Enter  Jefferson  Medical  College — 
Love  of  Anatomy — Faculty  of  the  College — Graduation — Open 
an  Office — Translations  of  French  Works  —  Practice — John  D. 
Godman  —  Sears  C.  Walker — Income  —  Marriage  —  Return  to 
Easton  —  Dissections — Experimental  Inquiries — Goetter  Trial — 
James  Madison  Porter — Andrew  Reeder — Medical  Profession — 
Asiatic  Cholera 26  to  60 

CHAPTER   III. 

Move  to  Cincinnati — Become  Demonstrator  of  Anatomy  in  the 
Medical  College  of  Ohio  —  Made  Professor  of  Pathological 
Anatomy  in  Cincinnati  College — Faculty — Horatio  G.  Jameson 
— James  B.  Rogers — A  Slip  of  Memory — John  P.  Harrison — 
Landon  C.  Rives — W.  H.  McGuffey — Practice — Dissections — 
Pathological  Anatomy — Decline  Appointment  of  Professorship 
of  Medicine  in  the  University  of  Virginia  and  of  Anatomy  in 
the  University  of  New  Orleans — Nicholas  Longworth — Andrew 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS. 

Jackson — Lyman  Beecher — Robert  Lytle  —  Salmon  P.  Chase — 
Timothy  Walker — Archbishop  Purcell — Gamaliel  Bailey — Bishop 
Mcllvaine — Daniel  Webster — General  W.  H.  Harrison  ,  .  6i  to  ZZ 

CHAPTER   IV. 

Made  Professor  of  Surgery  in  Louisville,  Kentuckj* — Reception  by 
the  Medical  Profession — The  University  of  Louisville — Appointed 
Professor  of  Surgery  in  New  York — Colleagues — Return  to  Louis- 
ville—  Treatise  on  the  Urinary  Organs  —  Treatise  on  Foreign 
Bodies  in  the  Air-passages  —  Experiments  on  Dogs — Work  on 
Wounds  of  the  Intestines — Other  Contributions  to  Medical  Lit- 
erature while  in  Kentucky — Reminiscences — W.  J.  Graves — A 
Famous  Duel  —  George  Poindexter — Baron  Friedrich  Ludwig 
Georg  Von  Raumer — James  P.  Espy — John  J.  Crittenden — Mil- 
lard Fillmore — The  Breckinridges — James  Guthrie — John  Rowan 
— Henry  Clay 89  to  124 

CHAPTER   V. 

Removal  to  Philadelphia  —  Professor  of  Surgery  in  the  Jefferson 
Medical  College — Portion  of  my  Library  Burned — Introductory 
Lecture  —  Secession  of  Students  —  War  Experience  —  Medico- 
Chirurgical  Review  —  Found  Pathological  Society  —  System  of 
Surgerx' — Compensation — Notices  of  Work — Manual  of  Military 
Surgery — Lives  of  Eminent  American  Physicians  and  Surgeons 
of  the  Nineteenth  Century — President  of  American  Medical  As- 
sociation— Discourse — Address  on  Syphilis  at  Detroit — Address 
on  Bloodletting  at  Louisville — Lectures  on  American  Medical 
Literature  from  1776  to  1876 — Contributions  to  Medical  and 
Surgical  Literature — Membership  in  Medical  Societies — Found 
Philadelphia  Academy  of  Surgery  and  Amt-rican  Surgical  Asso- 
ciation   125  to  151 

CHAPTER   VI. 

Professional  Income  and  Fees — Teaching — Knowledge  of  Patho- 
logical Anatomy — As  a  Practitioner,  Physician,  Surgeon,  and 
Accoucheur — Asa  Writer  and  Author 152  to  179 


CONTENTS.  ix 

CHAPTER  VII. 

My  Habits — Youth,  Manhood,  and  Old  Age — Letters  and  Corres- 
pondence— Testimonials  for  Patent  Medicines — Pupils — Trials — 
Position — Religion — Cremation — Modes  of  Death — Medicine — 
Classics — Labors  apart  from  Authorship 1 80  to  212 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

Visit  Europe — Berne — Albert  Von  Haller — Estimate  of  his  Char- 
acter and  Works  —  Vienna — Objects  of  Interest  —  Allgemeines 
Krankenhaus — Rokitansky — Vienna  School  of  Surgery — Billroth 
— Dresden — Berlin — Virchow — Von  Langenbeck — Von  Graefe — 
University  of  Berlin — Ehrenberg 213  to  246 

CHAPTER   IX. 

Frankfort-on-the-Main — Goethe — Homburg — The  Kursaal — Heid- 
elberg— The  University — The  Hirschgasse — The  Castle — Instru- 
ments of  Torture  —  Chelius  —  Mayence — Coblentz — Ehrenbreit- 
stein — Bonn — The  University — Cologne — The  Cathedral — Saint 
Ursula  —  Aix-la-Chapelle  —  Charlemagne  —  Rotterdam — Amster- 
dam— The  Public  Hospital — The  Medical  School — Boerhaave — 
Antwerp — Rubens — Brussels — Hospitals — Vesalius  .  .  247  to  270 

CHAPTER  X. 

Oxford — The  Meeting  of  the  British  Medical  Association — Strat- 
ford-on -Avon  —  Cambridge  —  The  University  —  Norwich  —  The 
British  Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Science — The  Nor- 
folk and  Norwich  Hospital — Mr.  Partridge — London  Hospitals — 
Leeds  —  York  —  Edinburgh  —  James  Syme  —  John  Brown  —  Sir 
James  Y.  Simpson,  Bart. — The  University — Glasgow — Courts  of 
Justice — Norman  Macleod 271  to  303 

CHAPTER   XI. 

The  Giant's  Causeway — Belfast — Dublin — Trinity  College — Medi- 
cal Men  and  Hospitals  of  Dublin — The  Royal  College  of  Sur- 
geons— The  Disestablishment  of  the  Irish  Church — Sir  William 
R.  Wilde — Sir  Dominic  John  Corrigan,  Bart. — William  Stokes — 

Reception  after  Returning  to  Philadelphia 304  to  320 

B 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


Second  Visit  to  Europe — Receive  Degree  of  D.  C.  L.  from  the  Uni- 
versity of  Oxford  —  Oxford — Prince  Hassan — The  University — 
The  Museum — The  Radclifife  Library — Edward  Bouverie  Pusey — 
Henry  Wentworth  Acland — Sir  Benjamin  Brodie,  Bart. — London 
— Presented  at  Court — Sir  Henry  Holland,  Bart. — Thomas  Bevill 
Peacock — St.  Thomas's  Hospital — The  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury— Dawlish — Nutwell  Court — Torquay — Birmingham — Lich- 
field— The  Shooting  Season — Return  to  America   .    .  321  to  351 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

John  Tyndall — Charles  Macalester — George  Peabody — The  Meet- 
ing of  the  American  Public  Health  Association — Paper  on  the 
Factors  of  Disease  and  Death  after  Injuries,  Parturition,  and  Sur- 
gical Operations — Resolutions  for  the  Establishment  of  a  National 
Bureau  of  Health — John  Eric  Erichsen — The  Death  of  my  Wife 
— The  Meeting  of  the  International  Medical  Congress — Sir  Wil- 
liam Fergusson,  Bart. — King's  College  Hospital  .    .  352  to  380 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Sad  Anniversary — The  Examination  of  Medical  Students — Wash- 
ington— The  Senate  Chamber — Baltimore — N.  R.  Smith — Martin 
Farquhar  Tupper — Operations — W.  D.  Lewis — What  is  Fame? — 
Chicago — The  Meeting  of  the  American  Medical  Association — 
Fortunes  of  Medical  Men — Boston — University  of  Cambridge — 
President  Hayes — Jacob  Bigelow  —  J.  B.  S.  Jackson  —  Charles 
Francis  Adams 381  to  407 


MEMOIR. 


MEMOIR 


OF 


SAMUEL    D.    GROSS,   M.  D. 


Samuel  D.  Gross,  the  son  of  Philip  and  Juliana  Gross, 
was  born  near  Easton,  Pennsylvania,  July  8th,  1805.  Like 
Newton,  Burns,  Cobden,  and  Whittier,  he  communed  at 
an  early  age  with  Nature  and  Nature's  God.  His  child- 
hood was  passed  on  his  father's  farm  ;  and  to  the  salutary 
open-air  life  led  by  him  over  the  hills  and  valleys  of  this 
picturesque  portion  of  Pennsylvania,  combined  with  a 
sound  constitution  inherited  from  his  parents,  he  attrib- 
uted in  great  measure  that  vigorous  health,  that  immunity 
from  disease  which  enabled  him  to  perform  a  vast  amount 
of  intellectual  labor,  and  to  achieve  a  conspicuous  reputa- 
tion wherever  Surgery  is  cultivated  as  a  science,  or  wherever 
the  works  of  its  great  masters  are  cherished  by  its  votaries. 

A  strong  love  of  nature  remained  throughout  his  life 
one  of  the  sources  of  his  keenest  enjoyment.  There  were 
few  forest  trees,  few  flowers  with  the  names  of  which  he 
did  not  become  familiar,  few  birds  with  whose  notes  he 
was  unacquainted.  Probably  Thoreau  did  not  more  enjoy 
the  varied  beauties  of  Nature ;  nor  could  the  youthful 
Audubon,  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  even  his  Southern 
temperament,  have  been  much  more  sensitive  to  her  voices 
and  teachings.  The  simple  plants  which  he  cultivated 
with  love  and  tenderness  on  his  father's  farm  gave  place 

xiii 


xiv        MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL   D.   GROSS,  M.D. 

during  his  residence  in  Louisville  to  rare  and  beautiful 
flowers,  among  wliich  he  loved  to  work  and  to  live.  No 
visitor  at  his  office  during  his  latter  years  could  fail  to 
observe  a  vase  of  these  sweet-smelling  emblems  of  refine- 
ment and  purity  upon  the  table  where  he  wrote  surrounded 
by  the  books  he  loved  so  well ;  and  when  the  days  were 
gradually  shortening  and  the  end  of  his  life  was  near, 
these  "dear  tokens  of  the  earth"  greeted  him  with  their 
fragrance  and  were  loved  by  him  to  the  last. 

We  are  told  that  at  the  age  of  seven  years  Warren  Hast- 
ings, lying  on  the  bank  of  a  rivulet  near  the  old  manor 
which  had  once  belonged  to  his  ancestors,  determined  that 
one  day  he  would  become  the  owner  of  the  estate ;  and 
that  through  all  the  changes  of  his  remarkable  career  the 
resolution  made  at  that  time  so  ruled  him  that  finally, 
when  affluent  and  powerful,  he  became  the  purchaser  of 
Daylesford. 

A  similar,  though  more  noble,  ambition  early  took  posses- 
sion of  young  Gross.  Before  the  age  of  six  years — a  period 
of  life  when  nearly  all  of  those  who  subsequently  occupy  a 
commanding  position  in  the  eye  of  the  world  are  noted 
only  for  empty  prattle  and  light-hearted  amusements — he 
had  conceived  the  idea  of  becoming  a  Physician.  This 
purpose,  from  which  he  never  swerved,  became  so  essential 
a  part  of  his  being  that  he  could  no  more  have  been  untrue 
to  it  than  could  the  needle  deflect  from  the  pole. 

Through  the  struggles  and  trials  of  his  life  this  idea 
dominated  him.  His  wish  was  gratified.  He  lived  to  see 
himself  honored  and  beloved  as  one  of  the  high  priests  of  a 
profession  which  he  regarded  as  the  most  sacred  of  all  call- 
insjs — for  which  even  on  his  death-bed  he  was  found  still 
laboring.  Only  a  few  days  before  he  died,  when,  greatly 
prostrated  by  physical  weakness,  he  had  begun  to  realize 
that  his  end  was  not  far  off",  he  corrected  the  proof-sheets 
of  two  elaborate  papers  written  with  all  the  fire  and  vigor 
of  a  mind  still  fresh  and  unimpaired. 


MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL   I).   GEOSS,  M.D.         xv 

Even  some  of  the  games  of  his  youthful  days  assisted 
him  in  that  branch  of  the  profession  to  which  he  devoted 
himself  He  attributed  much  of  the  accuracy  of  his  eye 
and  the  dexterity  of  his  hand  to  the  practice  of  pitching 
quoits  and  pennies — games  in  which  he  was  an  adept. 
Agassiz,  it  is  said,  owed  much  of  his  dexterity  in  manipu- 
lation to  the  training  which  his  eye  and  hand  had  acquired 
in  some  of  the  plays  of  his  childhood.  It  is  related  of  him 
that  when  a  little  fellow  he  could  make  well-fitting  shoes 
for  his  sisters'  dolls,  that  he  was  not  a  bad  tailor,  and  that 
he  could  make  a  miniature  water-tight  barrel. 

His  burning  ambition  to  be  a  Physician  impelled  young 
Gross  when  only  seventeen  years  of  age  to  enter  the  office 
of  a  countr}^  practitioner,  where,  finding  that  the  education 
which  had  been  obtained  in  country  schools  was  inadequate 
to  the  demands  which  might  be  made  upon  it,  he  de- 
termined as  far  as  possible  to  remedy  his  defects  by  a 
course  of  study  at  the  Wilkesbarre  Academy  and  at  the 
Lawrenceville  High  School.  When  nineteen  years  old  he 
entered  upon  the  study  of  medicine  in  the  office  of  Dr. 
Joseph  K.  Swift,  of  Easton  ;  and  afterwards  he  became  a 
matriculate  of  the  JeflTerson  Medical  College  and  a  private 
student  of  Dr.  George  McClellan,  the  Professor  of  Surgery 
in  that  institution.  Few  youths  studied  more  persistently, 
more  systematically,  or  with  greater  self-reliance. 

"One  day,  while  a  student  in  Swift's  office,"  says  he,  "I 
came  across  the  following  passage  in  Dorsey's  Surger\',  in 
the  chapter  on  Aneurism — a  passage  which  had  no  little 
influence  upon  my  future  professional  life.  'On  the  15th 
of  August,  i8ir,  I  was  consulted,'  says  Dorsey,  'by  Alex- 
ander Patton  on  account  of  a  tumor  in  his  right  groin.  .  .  . 
It  occasionally  gave  him  severe  pain,  and  incapacitated 
him  from  all  labor.  In  June  last  he  applied  to  Dr.  Irwin, 
of  Easton,  the  place  of  his  residence,  who  instantly  ap- 
prised him  of  the  nature  and  importance  of  his  complaint, 
and  advised  him  to  go  to  Philadelphia.'     In  pondering  on 


xvi        MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL  D.   GROSS,  M.D. 

this  passage,  I  asked  myself  the  question,  Why  was  this 
man  sent  to  Philadelphia,  and  not  treated  at  Easton? 
The  answer  was  not  long  in  coming.  Because  Irwin  felt 
incompetent  or  afraid  to  undertake  the  operation  necessary 
for  his  relief.  From  that  moment  I  determined  so  to  study 
my  profession  as  to  be  able  to  meet  every  emergency,  how- 
ever dijEhcult  or  unexpected,  and,  consequently,  never  to 
send  any  patient  away,  unless  he  was  in  a  hopeless  con- 
dition." 

In  1828  young  Gross  received  his  medical  degree ;  and 
in  less  than  a  year,  having  in  the  mean  time  opened  an 
office  in  Philadelphia,  he  had  translated  Bayle  and  Hol- 
lard's  General  Anatomy,  Hildenbrand  on  Typhus  Fever, 
Hatin's  Manual  of  Obstetrics,  and  Tavernier's  Operative 
Surgery ;  and  in  1830  he  published  a  treatise  on  the  Anat- 
omy, Physiology,  and  Diseases  of  the  Bones  and  Joints. 

Practice  came  slowly ;  and  in  eighteen  months,  believ- 
ing that  he  could  succeed  better  in  his  old  home  than  in 
Philadelphia,  he  returned  to  Easton.  There  he  took  the 
brave  young  wife  who  had  consented  to  share  his  priva- 
tions and  his  struggles,  and  who,  during  their  long  and 
singularly  happy  wedded  life,  rejoiced  with  him  in  the 
successes  which  from  time  to  time  crowned  his  efforts. 

In  some  of  his  writings  he  deferred  much  to  her  judg- 
ment ;  and  though  he  could  not  say  of  her — as  John  Stuart 
Mill  said  of  his  wife — "all  my  published  writings  were  as 
much  her  work  as  mine,"  still  Dr.  Gross  was  often  heard 
to  declare  that  he  was  indebted  to  her  for  many  valuable 
suggestions  after,  as  it  was  his  custom  to  do,  he  had  sub- 
mitted to  her  the  manuscript  of  an  address  or  valedictory 
discourse.  His  devotion  to  this  cultivated  and  noble 
woman  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  features  of  his  life. 
Though  her  death  in  1876  left  him  during  the  rest  of  his 
jjilgrimage  naught  but  a  blessed  memory,  to  that  memory 
he  was  ever  constant.  He  could  not  share  with  another 
the  love  which  he  had  given  to  her ;  and  when  the  final 


MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,  M.D.       xvii 

summons  came,  he  was  still  true  to  the  one  who  had  filled 
his  heart  with  sunshine  and  happiness. 

Whilst  practising  his  profession  at  Easton,  Dr.  Gross 
spent  several  hours  a  day  in  dissecting.  He  made  observa- 
tions on  the  temperature  of  the  blood ;  and  a  series  of  ex- 
periments on  rabbits  for  the  purpose  of  throwing  light  on 
manual  strangulation.  He  found  time  also  to  compose  a 
work  on  descriptive  anatomy,  which,  however,  was  never 
published. 

In  1833  he  went  to  Cincinnati  as  the  Demonstrator  of 
Anatomy  in  the  IMedical  College  of  Ohio.  This  position 
he  retained  till  1835,  when  he  accepted  the  chair  of  Patho- 
logical Anatomy  in  the  Medical  Department  of  Cincinnati 
College. 

The  hard  study  and  the  unremitting  labor  given  to 
the  subject  of  the  chair,  combined  with  constant  dissec- 
tions, enabled  Dr.  Gross  in  1839  to  publish  his  Elements 
of  Pathological  Anatomy,  the  first  work  on  this  subject 
in  the  English  language,  which  passed  through  three 
editions,  and  which  brought  him  fame  and  a  large  prac- 
tice. "His  Elements  of  Pathological  Anatomy,  issued 
in  1839,  in  two  octavo  volumes  of  more  than  five  hundred 
pages  each,  did  more,"  says  Dr.  Da  Costa,*  "to  attract 
attention  to  the  subject  than  anything  that  had  ever  been 
done  in  this  country.  The  book,  illustrated  profusely  with 
wood-cuts  and  with  several  colored  engravings,  reached 
three  editions.  It  is  a  mine  of  learning,  and  its  extended 
references  make  it  valuable  to  this  day.  Its  merits  have 
been  fully  recognized  abroad ;  and  on  no  occasion  more 
flatteringly  than  when  the  great  pathologist,  Virchow,  at 
a  dinner  given  to  Dr.  Gross  at  Berlin  in  1868,  compli- 
mented him  publicly  on  being  the  author,  and,  pointing 
to  the  volume,  which  he  laid  upon  the  table,  gracefully 


♦Biographical  Sketch  of  Professor  Samuel  D.  Gross  by  J.  M.  Da  Costa,  M.D., 
LL.D.,  1884. 

C 


xviii      MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,  M.D. 

acknowledged  the  pleasure  and  instruction  which  he  had 
often  gained  from  it.  As  another  acknowledgment  of  its 
merits,  we  find  that  soon  after  the  publication  of  the 
second  edition  the  Imperial  Royal  Society  of  Vienna 
made  Dr.  Gross  an  honorary  member." 

In  1840  Dr.  Gross  accepted  the  chair  of  Surgery  in  the 
University  of  Louisville.  There  he  resided  for  sixteen 
years,  with  the  exception  of  the  winter  of  i850-'5i,  which 
he  spent  in  New  York,  as  the  successor  of  Valentine  Mott, 
in  the  chair  of  Surgery  in  the  University  of  that  city. 

A  series  of  experiments  which  he  made  on  dogs  resulted 
in  the  publication  by  him  of  his  next  work.  An  Experi- 
mental and  Critical  Inquiry  into  the  Nature  and  Treat- 
ment of  Wounds  of  the  Intestines. 

His  treatise  on  Diseases  of  the  Urinary  Organs  was 
published  in  1851  ;  and  his  treatise  on  Foreign  Bodies 
in  the  Air-Passages  in  1854.  The  latter  was  a  pioneer 
work,  and  has  received  the  highest  praise.  "From  it," 
says  Dr.  Da  Costa,  "all  subsequent  authors  have  largely 
copied  their  facts,  and  of  it  the  distinguished  laryngolo- 
gist,  Morell  Mackenzie,  has  declared  that  it  is  doubtful 
whether  it  ever  will  be  improved  upon." 

Besides  the  works  mentioned  Dr.  Gross  was  a  liberal 
contributor  to  the  periodical  press  during  his  residence 
in  the  West,  publishing  reports  of  important  cases,  and 
elaborate  biographies  of  such  men  as  Daniel  Drake  and 
Ephraim  McDowell. 

The  years  which  he  passed  in  Louisville  were  among 
the  happiest  of  his  life.  Though  immersed  in  a  large  and 
constantly  increasing  practice,  performing  an  amount  of 
literary  and  professional  work  that  seems  astounding,  he 
found  time  to  cultivate  close  relations  with  the  people 
among  whom  he  lived.  Probably  no  physician  was  more 
beloved  or  more  trusted  by  his  patients  ;  certainly  few  men 
were  more  popular.  Not  only  was  his  beautiful  residence 
the  abode  of  that  bounteous  hospitality  for  which   Ken- 


MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,  M.  D.        xix 

tucky  is  famous,  but  artists,  scientists,  and  distinguished 
men  and  women  of  America  and  from  foreign  climes  found 
within  its  walls  a  hearty  welcome  at  reunions,  in  which  the 
strains  of  music  mingled  with  flashes  of  wit  and  humor. 

When  in  1856  Dr.  Gross  had  been  elected  Professor  of 
Surgery  in  the  Jefferson  Medical  College,  he  feelingly 
refers,  in  his  introductory  lecture  to  the  students  of  that 
college,  to  his  regret  at  leaving  Kentucky  : 

"  It  was  pleasant  to  dwell  in  the  land  of  Boone,  of  Clay, 
and  of  Crittenden  ;  to  behold  its  fertile  fields,  its  majestic 
forests,  and  its  beautiful  streams ;  and  to  associate  with  its 
refined,  cultivated,  generous-hearted,  and  chivalric  people. 
It  was  there  that  I  had  hoped  to  spend  the  remainder  of 
my  days  upon  objects  calculated  to  promote  the  honor  and 
welfare  of  its  noble  profession,  and  finally  to  mingle  my 
dust  with  the  dust  and  ashes  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of 
Kentucky.  But  destiny  has  decreed  otherwise.  A  change 
has  come  over  my  life.  I  stand  this  evening  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  new  people,  a  stranger  in  a  strange  place,  and  a 
candidate  for  new  favors. ' ' 

During  the  meeting  of  the  American  Medical  Associa- 
tion in  lyouisville  in  1875  the  citizens  vied  one  with  an- 
other in  doing  Dr.  Gross  honor.  As  the  train  in  which  he 
was  travelling  neared  the  city  and  stopped  at  different 
stations,  some  of  the  passengers  would  look  at  the  hand- 
some imposing  figure  seated  in  the  car,  and  would  greet  in 
an  affectionate  manner  him  who  many  years  before  liad 
been  their  "beloved  physician  ;"  and  soon  after  his  arrival 
his  old  friends,  patients,  and  former  servants  testified  most 
feelingly  that  the  lapse  of  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  centur>^  had 
not  dimmed  their  recollection  of  his  never-failing  kindness 
to  them  in  the  days  that  were  dead  and  gone. 

When  in  1879  Dr.  Gross  delivered  in  Danville  the 
memorial  address  at  the  dedication  of  the  monument  to 
l£pliraini  McDowell,  Dr.  Cowling  presented  011  behalf  of 
the  Kentucky  State  Medical  Society  the  door-knocker  of 


XX         MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL  D.   GROSS,  M.D. 

Dr.  McDowell  to  Dr.  Gross,  and  thus  touchingly  referred 
to  the  estimate  in  which  he  was  held  by  the  people  of 
Kentucky : 

"It  belongs  by  right  to  you,  Dr.  Gross.  This  house- 
hold genius  passes  most  fittingly  from  the  dearest  of  Ken- 
tucky's dead  surgeons  to  the  most  beloved  of  her  living 
sons  in  medicine.  She  will  ever  claim  you  as  her  son, 
and  will  look  with  jealous  eye  upon  those  who  would 
wean  you  from  her  dear  affection. 

"  And  as  this  emblem  which  now  is  given  to  you  hangs 
no  longer  in  a  Kentucky  doorway,  by  this  token  you  shall 
know  that  all  Kentucky  doorways  are  open  at  your  ap- 
proach. By  the  relief  your  skill  has  wrought ;  by  the 
griefs  your  great  heart  has  healed ;  by  the  sunshine  you 
have  thrown  across  her  thresholds ;  by  the  honor  your 
fame  has  brought  her ;  by  the  fountains  of  your  wisdom 
at  which  your  loving  children  within  her  borders  have 
drunk,  the  people  of  Kentucky  shall  ever  open  to  you 
their  hearts  and  homes. ' ' 

And  when  the  noble  mind  was  forever  hushed  in  death, 
Kentucky  was  still  constant.  One  of  her  sons,  a  former 
pupil.  Dr.  D.  W.  Yandell,  wrote  in  his  honor  the  beautiful 
classic  tribute  with  which  this  Memoir  closes. 

Though  filled  with  regret  at  leaving  his  home  in  the 
West,  Dr.  Gross  at  once  received  a  hearty  welcome  at  the 
hands  of  the  medical  profession  and  of  the  citizens  of 
Philadelphia.  It  was  a  matter  of  pride  with  him  to  lec- 
ture in  the  institution  in  which  twenty-eight  years  before 
he  had  been  a  student.  New  friendships  were  formed, 
new  ties  were  made,  new  tendrils  were  put  forth,  and  he 
soon  became  as  popular  in  the  profession  and  out  of  it  as 
he  had  been  in  Louisville. 

All  his  leisure  not  devoted  to  his  college  duties,  to  the 
cares  of  a  large  oflfice  and  consultation  practice,  to  the 
editorship,  with  Dr.  Richardson,  of  the  North  American 
Medico-Chirurgical  Review — the  successor  of  the  Louis- 


MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,  M.D.        xxi 

ville  Medical  Review — and  to  the  preparation  with  Dr.  Da 
Costa  of  the  third  edition  of  the  Pathological  Anatomy, 
was  now  given  to  the  composition  of  his  System  of  Sur- 
gery. The  first  edition  of  this  work  appeared  in  1859  ;  and 
the  sixth  in  1882,  in  which  year  he  severed  his  connection 
with  the  Jefferson  Medical  College.  His  successors  were 
his  son,  Dr.  Samuel  W.  Gross,  and  Dr.  John  H.  Brinton. 

In  1 861  appeared  his  Manual  of  Militar}^  Surgery- ;  and 
in  the  same  year  he  published  The  Lives  of  Eminent 
American  Physicians  and  Surgeons  of  the  Nineteenth 
Century,  for  which  he  prepared  the  memoirs  of  Ephraim 
McDowell,  Daniel  Drake,  and  John  Syng  Dorsey.  The 
enumeration,  however,  of  his  contributions  to  medical  and 
surgical  literature,  before  and  after  he  left  Kentucky,  would 
greatly  exceed  the  limits  appropriate  to  the  present  sketch. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  he  was  never  idle.  At  the  Compli- 
mentary Commemoration  Dinner  given  to  him  in  1879,  ^^^ 
said,  "My  conviction  has  always  been  that  it  is  far  better 
for  a  man  to  wear  out  than  to  rust  out. ' ' 

And  so  Dr.  Gross  grew  in  honor,  crowned  with  the 
highest  professional  triumphs,  devoting  himself  to  his 
office  practice,  to  writing,  and  to  the  pleasures  of  litera- 
ture, cheered  and  solaced  by  the  love  of  his  devoted  chil- 
dren and  grandchildren. 

Early  in  the  winter  of  i883-'84  his  constitution  began 
to  fail,  and  his  family  became  seriously  alarmed  at  his 
symptoms.  In  addition  to  dyspepsia  there  was  every  in- 
dication of  a  fatty  heart.  But  Dr.  Gross  did  not  despond, 
nor  did  his  work  cease.  He  thought  he  had  still  much  to 
do  for  the  good  of  his  profession ;  and  though  he  frequently 
expressed  to  the  members  of  his  family  the  belief  that  he 
had  not  many  months  to  live,  he  went,  accompanied  by 
one  of  his  daughters,  on  March  31st,  1884,  to  Atlantic  City, 
cherishing  the  hope  that  his  health  might  be  sufficiently 
restored  to  enable  him  to  take  part  at  the  meeting  of  the 
American  Surgical  Association  and  of  the  American  Medi- 


xxii        MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL  D.   GROSS,  M.D. 

cal  Association  in  Washington  in  May.  This  hope  was 
never  realized.  In  a  few  days  he  returned  to  Philadel- 
phia completely  worn  out,  and  suffering  with  nausea.  His 
son,  Dr.  Samuel  W.  Gross,  and  his  friend.  Dr.  Da  Costa,  did 
all  that  skill  and  affection  could  suggest.  Knowing  the 
intimate  relations  which  existed  between  Dr.  Gross  and 
myself,  they  and  the  members  of  his  family  thought  that, 
even  thoug^h  I  might  not  be  able  to  render  much  assist- 
ance  during  an  illness  which  day  by  day  seemed  to  in- 
crease, my  presence  might  cheer  and  comfort  him.  And 
so  it  was  that  I  paid  several  visits  to  my  old  friend  as  the 
shadows  began  to  deepen  around  him.  His  resolute  mind 
knew  no  such  thing  as  fear.  His  only  regret  was  that 
of  leaving  forever  the  family  which  he  loved  so  dearly, 
and  which  idolized  him,  and  of  leaving  undone  much 
professional  work. 

Each  visit  paid  by  me  found  him  weaker  than  the  pre- 
vious visit ;  and  finally  on  the  5th  day  of  May,  1884,  as  I 
stood  at  the  bedside  of  the  one  who,  above  all  his  brethren, 
was  held  in  honor  and  esteem  by  the  medical  profession  of 
America,  it  was  but  too  apparent  that  the  labors  of  Samuel 
D.  Gross  had  ended,  and  that  he  was  near  the  close  of  his 
earthly  life.  I  left  his  bedside  to  be  present,  on  the  follow- 
ing day,  at  the  annual  meeting  of  the  American  Medical 
Association  in  Washington.  The  President  of  the  Asso- 
ciation in  his  opening  address  referred  to  the  absence  of 
Professor  Gross,  who,  in  a  letter  which  was  one  of  the  last, 
if  not  the  very  last,  written  before  his  decease,  requested 
that  an  invitation  be  given  by  the  American  Medical  Asso- 
ciation to  the  International  Medical  Congress  to  hold  its 
meeting  in  this  country  in  1887.  The  announcement  of 
his  serious  illness  called  forth  a  quick  and  warm  response 
from  the  members  of  the  Association.  It  was  a  remarkable 
coincidence  that  at  the  very  hour  the  Association  was  en- 
g:a2:ed  in  a  discussion  as  to  the  manner  in  which  heartfelt 
sympathy  should  be  expressed  and  conveyed  to  Professor 


MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL  D.   GROSS,  M.D.        xxiii 

Gross — shortly  before  one  o'clock  p.  m.  on  May  6tli,  1884 — 
he  was  in  the  article  of  death.  The  telegram  which  carried 
the  resolutions  adopted  by  the  Association  reached  its  desti- 
nation but  a  short  time  after  he  had  breathed  his  last. 

On  the  announcement  to  the  Association  of  the  death 
of  Professor  Gross,  a  committee  was  appointed  to  ' '  take 
such  action  as  it  might  deem  proper. "  *  As  the  chairman 
of  this  committee,  with  the  approval  of  my  fellow-mem- 
bers, I  submitted  to  the  Association  some  reflections  on  a 
life  memorable  for  services  in  behalf  of  medicine  and  the 
medical  profession  ;  on  a  life  precious  as  an  example  ;  and 
on  a  character  which  inspired  esteem  and  affection. 

I  do  not  propose  to  write  a  biography  of  Professor  Gross. 
This  has  been  done  by  able  hands,  f  Nor  would  I  have  my 
reflections  regarded  purely  in  the  light  of  a  eulogy.  My 
desire  is  to  contemplate  his  life  and  character  from  the 
vantage-ground  of  a  long  and  intimate  personal  friendship. 
Disclaiming  any  attempt  at  rhetorical  efforts  in  the  way  of 
paneg\Tic,  I  will  survey  his  life  and  character  with  reference 
to  his  long  and  preeminently  successful  professional  career, 
and  to  the  qualities  which  distinguished  him  as  a  man. 

My  friendship  with  Professor  Gross  commenced  when 
we  were  colleagues  in  the  Medical  Department  of  the 
University  of  Louisville  in  1852.  Friendship  ripened 
quickly  into  close  intimacy,  which  continued  without  for 
an  instant  a  shadow  of  a  difference  up  to  his  death.  We 
were  more  than  friends.  Esteem  and  affection  are  terms 
which,  although  superlatively  qualified,  express  inade- 
quately my  attachment  to  him.  I  loved  him.  The  senti- 
ment of  love,   that  divine  attribute  of  humanity,   was  I 

*The  members  of  the  committee  were  as  follows:  Drs.  Austin  Flint,  T.  G. 
Richarfison,  L.  A.  Sayre,  John  H.  Packard,  F.  II.  Hamilton,  Moses  Gunn, 
W.  T.  Briggs,  and  I.  M.  Hays. 

t  A  Memoir  by  I.  M.  Hays,  M.  D.,  American  Journal  of  the  Medical  Scicnci-s, 
Julv.  1S84.  A  Biographical  Sketch  by  J.  M.  Da  Costa,  M.  I).,  LL.  D.,  December 
iglh,  1884.     A  Sketch  by  J.  Ewing  Mears,  M.D.,  1885. 


xxiv      MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL  D.   GROSS,  M.D. 

believe  reciprocal.  I  can,  therefore,  as  I  think,  without 
presumption,  view  his  life  and  character  with  an  insight 
embracing  the  feelings,  aims,  and  motives  underlying  ex- 
ternal appearance  and  actions. 

The  life  of  Professor  Gross,  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end  of  his  long  professional  career,  was  a  life  of  work — 
work  as  a  student,  as  a  writer,  as  a  teacher,  and  as  a  practi- 
tioner. From  first  to  last  he  was  a  diligent  student.  If  in 
his  advancing  and  advanced  years  he  held  tenaciously  to 
opinions  previously  formed,  it  was  not  from  lack  of  know- 
ledge covering  recent  views,  but  because  they  failed  to 
subvert  his  belief.  To  hold  fast  to  his  belief  after  due 
deliberation  was  a  strong  mental  characteristic.  His  was 
not  a  mind  to  be  carried  away  by  every  wind  of  doctrine. 
He  may  have  been  open  to  the  charge  of  undue  tenacity 
of  convictions.  If  so,  it  was  not  from  a  pride  of  per- 
sonal opinions,  but  from  a  reluctance  to  relinquish  aught 
which  he  had  been  led  to  believe  was  true.  Conservatism 
entered  largely  into  his  mental  constitution.  His  mind 
rebelled  asrainst  immature  innovations.  Yet  no  one  at 
heart  was  more  desirous  than  he  for  progress  in  medical 
knowledge  and  improvements  in  its  practical  applications. 

A  few  months  before  his  death  I  was  present  with  him 
at  a  consultation  in  a  case  which  involved  certain  surgical 
questions.  He  entered  fully  into  a  discussion  of  these  and 
of  kindred  topics  which  the  case  suggested.  Associated  in 
the  consultation  was  a  comparatively  young  surgeon  who 
was  a  skilful  operator,  and  eminent  for  his  knowledge  of 
the  literature  of  surgery.  He  afterward  expressed  his  ad- 
miration at  the  familiarity  of  Professor  Gross  with  the 
latest  contributions  to  surgical  knowledge  not  only  in 
our  own  language  but  in  that  of  Germany  and  of  France. 
The  last  edition  of  his  great  work  on  Surgery,  published 
but  seventeen  months  before  his  death,  is  remarkable  as 
showing  a  thorough  acquaintance  with  contemporaneous 
publications,   bibliographical   and   periodical,   relating   to 


MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,  M.D.       xxv 

the  Surgical  Department  of  Medicine.  His  life-work 
exemplified  the  motto,  "once  a  medical  student  always  a 
medical  student" — a  motto  which  all  who  aspire  to  true 
success  in  the  profession  of  medicine  will  do  well  to  adopt. 

Professor  Gross,  as  already  seen,  commenced  the  prac- 
tice of  literary  composition  at  the  beginning  of  his  pro- 
fessional life.  He  was  a  voluminous  writer.  His  vaca- 
tions were  infrequent  and  generally  of  brief  duration.  He 
was  always  engaged  either  in  writing  or  in  making  prep- 
arations to  write  one  of  his  various  contributions  to  medi- 
cal literature.  The  six  editions  of  his  System  of  Surgery 
represent  an  immensity  of  labor. 

From  his  life  may  be  learned  the  importance  of  early 
practice  to  those  who  aspire  to  authorship.  How  many 
who  cherish  such  an  aspiration  in  the  dim  future  remain 
content  with  present  inaction  !  Continued  procrastination 
is  equivalent  to  indefinite  postponement,  and  the  latter  to 
inability.  The  art  of  composition,  in  addition  to  ambition 
and  capacity,  requires  practice,  and  practice  comes  from 
love  of  that  kind  of  work.  Authors  in  medicine  do  not 
spring  like  Minerva  in  full  armor  from  the  head  of  Jove. 

Another  lesson  which  his  life  teaches  is  that  great  lit- 
erary labors  may  be  performed  in  conjunction  with  other 
occupations  which  are  irregular,  time-consuming,  and 
claiming  precedence.  Under  how  different  circumstances 
are  these  labors  performed  by  the  medical  practitioner  and 
teacher  as  compared  with  those  who  make  literature  a 
profession  !  The  practice  of  medicine  often  leaves  but 
few  hours  of  leisure.  They  can  rarely  be  counted  upon, 
and  to  systematize  them  is  seldom  possible.  Moreover, 
medical  practice  engrosses  not  only  the  time,  but  the 
thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  practitioner.  How  was  Pro- 
fessor Gross  able  to  perform  so  vast  an  amount  of  literary 
work?  By  the  use  of  whatever  hours  could  be  appro- 
priated without  the  neglect  of  professional,  social,  or  do- 
mestic  duties,    and    by   utilizing   moments  which    would 

I) 


xxvi       MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,  M.D. 

otherwise  be  lost.  During  the  evenings  or  the  portions  of 
evenings  which  would  be  appropriated  for  study  or  writing 
he  was  at  home  only  to  his  intimate  friends,  and  they 
were  considerate  enough  to  disturb  him  but  seldom.  A 
large  part  of  his  writings,  as  he  assured  me,  was  composed 
in  his  carriage  while  driving  to  see  his  patients.  And  his 
children  relate  that  during  his  residence  in  Louisville  he 
always  took  one  of  them  with  him  in  his  carriage  when 
visiting  patients  several  miles  from  the  city,  and  that  on 
these  occasions  they  were  often  surprised  to  hear  him  talk 
aloud  for  fifteen  minutes  at  a  time.  ' '  What  are  you  doing, 
father?"  "Oh,  nothing  but  lecturing  to  my  students,  or 
writing  a  page  of  a  book,"  he  replied  with  a  smile.  The 
thoughts  thus  given  utterance  to,  if  intended  for  a  book, 
were  reduced  to  writing  the  evening  of  his  return  to  the 
city.  The  results  of  this  system  of  daily  industry  would 
seem  incredible  to  one  not  prepared  to  form  an  estimate 
by  observation  or  personal  experience. 

Professor  Gross  resolved  at  the  outset  of  his  professional 
life  to  become  a  Medical  Teacher.  Is  not  this  true  of 
most  of  those  who  have  been  eminently  successful  in  ac- 
quiring the  art  of  teaching?  Observation  shows  that  few 
who  begin  late  in  life  attain  to  much  success.  In  many  re- 
spects Professor  Gross  was  a  model  teacher.  As  a  speaker 
he  was  fluent,  deliberate,  clear,  and  emphatic.  His  hearers 
could  not  but  feel  that  his  object  was  to  instruct,  not  to 
excite  admiration  for  his  own  attainments  and  skill.  He 
had  the  faculty  of  appreciating  the  kind  of  information  to  be 
communicated  to  medical  students  by  oral  teaching,  and  of 
knowing  how  to  communicate  it.  Herein  lie  the  secret 
and  the  popularity  of  the  successful  teacher.  The  per- 
sonal appearance  of  Professor  Gross  in  the  lecture-room 
was  most  prepossessing.  His  tall  commanding  figure,  his 
clear  voice,  his  features  beaming  with  intelligence  and 
animation,  his  zealous  manner — all  contributed  to  render 
his  teachings  effective.     He  had  that  magnetism  which 


J 


MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL  D.   GROSS,  M.D.       xxvii 

is  a  gift  invaluable  to  a  speaker.  Apart  from  these  advan- 
tages, his  preeminent  success  was  an  outcome  of  his  love 
of  the  labor  and  of  a  deep  sense  of  the  responsibility  which 
the  duties  of  a  teacher  involve.  As  an  evidence  of  the 
latter  I  quote  the  words  with  which  he  concluded  his 
inaugural  address  on  entering  upon  the  duties  of  Professor 
of  Surgery  in  the  Jefferson  Medical  College  :  ' '  Whatever 
of  life,  and  of  health,  and  of  strength  remains  to  me,  I 
hereby,  in  the  presence  of  Almighty  God  and  of  this  large 
assemblage,  dedicate  to  the  cause  of  my  Alma  ]\Iater,  to 
the  interests  of  Medical  Science,  and  to  the  good  of  my 
fellow-creatures."  * 

As  a  practitioner,  the  characteristics  of  Professor  Gross, 
irrespective  of  his  ability  and  skill  in  medicine  and  sur- 
gery, were  attentiveness  and  a  deep  interest  in  his  cases, 
conjoined  with  geniality  and  kindliness.  These  character- 
istics were  in  harmony  with  self-respect.  He  neither 
belonged  to  the  bullying  nor  to  the  cajoling  class  of  prac- 
titioners. His  face  and  manner  brought  into  the  sick-room 
beatitude.  In  this  aspect  his  professional  life  might  well 
be  held  up  as  a  model  for  imitation. 

Turning  from  the  life-picture  of  Professor  Gross  in  its 
professional  aspects,  the  contemplation  of  his  character  as 
a  man  awakens  higher  sentiments  than  admiration.  As  a 
student,  author,  teacher,  and  practitioner  he  was  grand. 
But  in  him  there  was  not  that  incongruity  so  often  pain- 
fully conspicuous  between  the  outward  and  the  inner  man. 
We  are  constrained  to  admire  the  achievements  of  his  in- 
tellect, but  the  excellence  of  his  heart  inspired  affection 
and  love. 

Sensitiveness  and  tenderness  he  had  in  a  marked  degree. 
In  the  performance  of  his  professional  duties  these  were 
held  in  complete  control  by  the  force  of  his  will  ;  but 
there  were  occasions  when  his  feelings  could  not  be  kept 

*  Quoted  from  the  Biographical  Sketch  by  J.  M.  Da  Costa,  M.D.,  LL.  D. 


xxviii      MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL  £>.  GROSS,  M.D. 

in  restraint,  even  in  the  presence  of  other  than  his  intimate 
friends. 

The  death  of  Daniel  Drake  took  place  during  a  winter 
session  of  the  College  at  Louisville.  Dr.  Drake  and  he 
had  been  associated  as  colleagues,  and  they  were  warmly 
attached  friends.  Dr.  Gross  attempted  to  announce  to  the 
class  the  death  of  his  friend  who  had  been  recently  con- 
nected with  the  College.  He  had  scarcely  commenced 
when  his  feelings  overcame  him ;  his  utterance  was  pre- 
vented by  audible  sobbing;  and  he  was  obliged  to  leave 
the  lecture-room. 

His  kindness  toward  every  one  with  whom  he  was 
brousfht  into  contact  was  a  noticeable  trait  of  his  char- 
acter.  There  was  no  appearance  of  pseudo-dignity,  nor 
of  the  cold  reserve  of  self-conceit.  That  he  was  gratified 
by  the  approbation  of  others,  and  pleased  by  the  honors 
which  were  showered  upon  him,  he  made  no  effort  to  con- 
ceal. He  was,  however,  as  desirous  of  honorable  estima- 
tion for  his  friends  as  for  himself.  He  was  ever  alive  to 
opportunities  to  promote  the  welfare  and  reputation  of 
those  to  whom  he  stood  in  friendly  relations.  He  was 
prompt  to  encourage  worthy  efforts,  in  the  way  of  con- 
tributions to  medical  knowledge,  by  those  with  whom  he 
was  personally  unacquainted.  Many  a  writer,  a  stranger 
to  him,  has  been  surprised  by  a  note  from  him  expressing 
his  gratification  and  kind  wishes.  Professor  Gross  was  a 
constant  attendant  upon  the  meetings  of  the  American 
Medical  Association,  and  how  many  can  recall  with 
pleasure  his  benignant  smile  and  his  cordial  salutations ! 
All  who  have  known  him  will  remember  the  quiet  playful 
humor  associated  with  his  kindly  disposition.  His  badi- 
nage was  of  a  nature  to  enliven,  but  never  to  offend  or  to 
cause  pain.  Sarcasm  and  ridicule  had  no  place  in  his 
discourse  ;  nor  was  his  conversation  profane  or  unclean. 

His  home  was  open  to  all  who  had  any  claim  upon  his 
attentions.     He  was  considerate  and  generous  alike  to  the 


MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL  D.  GROSS,  M.  D.       xxix 

giiest  who  was  renowned  in  letters  at  home  and  abroad, 
and  to  the  young  physician  and  the  medical  student.  As 
has  been  said  by  Froude,  "Nowhere  is  a  man  known  better 
than  in  his  own  family.  No  disguise  is  possible  there ;  and 
he  whom  father  and  mother,  brother  and  sister  love,  we 
may  be  sure  has  deserved  to  be  loved."  No  father  was 
ever  kinder,  no  husband  more  aflfectionate.  They  who 
are  privileged  to  enter  this  circle  are  blessed  with  sweet 
remembrances  which  must  now  take  the  place  of  those 
social  pleasures  that  death  has  interrupted. 

The  character  of  Professor  Gross  was  full  and  round. 
It  had  no  glaring  defects.  It  was  not  angular  or  distorted. 
He  had  quick,  strong  impulses ;  but  they  were  generally 
right,  and  he  was  not  led  astray  by  them  if  their  tendency 
was  otherwise.  He  was  fond  of  amusements  and  rational 
conviviality ;  but  his  life  affords  no  sanction  of  immoderate 
devotion  to  pleasure.  He  was  temperate  in  all  things 
without  asceticism  or  fanaticism.  He  had  a  frank  nature 
and  was  open-handed,  but  not  improvident.  He  was  gen- 
erous as  regards  his  professional  services  whenever  circum- 
stances called  for  the  exercise  of  generosity. 

Probably  no  more  correct  estimate  of  Dr.  Gross  could  be 
given  than  that  which  is  taken  from  the  Memoir  by  Dr.  I.  ]\I. 
Hays  in  the  American  Journal  of  the  Medical  Sciences : 
"Dr.  Gross's  majestic  form  and  dignified  presence,  his 
broad  brow  and  intelligent  eye,  his  deep,  mellow  voice, 
and  benignant  smile,  his  genial  manner  and  cordial  greet- 
ing, remain  indelibly  impressed  upon  the  memory  of  all 
who  knew  him.  He  was  a  man  of  deep  mind  and  broad 
views,  and  he  was  a  model  of  industry  and  untiring  zeal. 
He  always  had  some  literary  work  in  hand,  and  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  rising  early  in  the  morning,  generally  at  six 
o'clock,  and  accomplishing  considerable  writing  before 
breakfast.  Plis  style  was  vigorous  and  pure,  and  the 
amount  of  work  he  accomplished  was  simply  immense. 
It  is  safe  to  say  that  no  previous  medical  teacher  or  author 


XXX       MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL  D.   GROSS,  M.  D. 

on  this  continent  exercised  such  a  widespread  and  com- 
manding influence  as  did  Professor  Gross.  His  writings 
have  been  most  learned  and  voluminous,  and  his  classes 
among  the  largest  that  have  ever  been  collected  in  this 
country.  As  a  citizen  he  was  public-spirited  and  influen- 
tial, and  he  always  most  jealously  guarded  the  esprit  de 
corps  of  his  own  profession.  In  every  project  to  advance 
its  interests  or  to  protect  or  honor  any  of  its  deserving 
members  he  was  foremost.  On  account  of  the  universally 
recognized  eminence  of  his  authority  as  a  surgeon  he  was 
frequently  called  into  court  as  an  expert  to  testify  in  mal- 
practice suits,  and  he  was  ever  ready  cheerfully  to  give  his 
time,  knowledge,  and  influence  in  maintaining  the  right ; 
and  he  never  thought  any  trouble  too  great  to  aid  an  un- 
fortunate professional  brother.  He  took  a  deep  interest, 
too,  in  the  struggles  and  success  of  young  men,  born  per- 
haps of  his  own  experience,  and  he  was  always  ready  to 
assist  them  by  his  counsel  and  advice." 

It  was  my  privilege  to  see  him  repeatedly  during  the 
last  days  of  his  life.  Feeble  as  he  was,  his  cheerfulness, 
his  inclination  to  humor,  and  his  hospitable  attentions  did 
not  leave  him.  He  talked  with  interest  of  the  meeting  of 
the  American  Medical  Association,  which  was  near  at  hand, 
and  of  the  International  Medical  Congress  which  was  to 
meet  at  Copenhagen  in  a  few  weeks.  He  expressed  regret 
that  he  could  not  be  present  at  these  meetings.  In  answer 
to  a  question  of  his  friend  and  former  colleague,  Professor 
Richardson,  "What  message  do  you  wish  to  send  to  the 
members  of  the  American  Medical  Association  ?' '  he  said, 
"Give  them  my  love."  He  manifested  pleasure  in  the 
announcement,  shortly  before  his  death,  that  the  University 
of  Edinburgh  and  the  University  of  Pennsylvania  had  con- 
ferred on  him  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws.  He  declared 
that  he  had  no  desire  to  outlive  capability  for  work  and 
usefulness.  He  died  without  much  suffering,  and  with  all 
the  devoted  members  of  his  family  around  his  bed. 


MEMOIR  OF  SAMUEL  D.  GROSS,  M.  D.        xxxi 

The  post-mortem  examination,  which  was  conducted  by 
Dr.  Da  Costa,  showed  that  Dr.  Gross  had  labored  under 
marked  gastric  catarrh.  There  were  irregular  thickening 
of  the  mucous  membrane  of  the  stomach,  and  fatty  heart. 
The  right  kidney  contained  a  large  cyst.  The  brain 
weighed  forty-eight  ounces.  In  accordance  with  the  in- 
structions contained  in  his  will,  the  body  of  Dr.  Gross, 
after  a  strictly  private  funeral  service  on  l\Iay  7th,  was 
taken  to  Washington,  Pennsylvania,  and  cremated.  On 
Sunday,  May  nth,  the  ashes  were  deposited  in  Woodlands 
Cemetery  next  to  the  coffin  of  his  wife. 

The  property  of  Dr.  Gross  save  a  few  legacies  was  divided 
equally  among  his  four  children.  His  wet  preparations, 
diagrams,  and  museum  were  bequeathed  to  the  Jefferson 
Medical  College.  He  left  his  medical  librar\^,  numbering 
over  five  thousand  volumes,  to  the  Philadelphia  Academy 
of  Surgery.  To  this  institution  he  also  bequeathed  the  sum 
of  five  thousand  dollars,  the  interest  of  which  is  to  be  paid 
every  five  years  to  the  author  of  the  best  essay  on  a  subject 
connected  with  Surgical  Patholog>'.  The  marble  bust  of 
Dr.  Gross  now  graces  the  hall  of  the  College  of  Physicians. 

Rarely  has  the  loss  of  a  medical  man  been  so  keenly  felt 
by  the  community  in  which  he  lived  or  throughout  the 
country.  Telegrams  and  letters  of  condolence  and  resolu- 
tions of  sympathy  transmitted  by  various  medical  and  sur- 
gical organizations  in  different  States  testified  to  the  love 
and  respect  with  which  the  memory  of  Dr.  Gross  was 
cherished. 

So  passed  away,  having  nearly  reached  the  age  of  four- 
score years,  one  whom  all  delighted  to  honor.  His  physical 
strength  was  not  greatly  impaired  until  up  to  a  short  time 
before  his  death,  and  his  mental  faculties  were  maintained 
to  the  last.  We  shall  see  him  no  more  in  this  world.  But  his 
life-work  and  his  character  death  cannot  destroy.  These  re- 
main a  priceless  legacy  to  the  profession  which  he  loved,  and 
which  will  ever  hold  his  memory  in  grateful  remembrance. 


"  IN  MEMORIAM. 

WITHIN  THIS   URN   LIE  THE  ASHES   OF 

SAMUEL    D.    GROSS, 

A  MASTER  IN  SURGERY. 


His  life,  which  neared  the  extreme  limits  of  the  Psalmist,  was  one  unbroken 
process  of  laborious  years. 

He  filled  chairs  in  four  Medical  Colleges  in  as  many  States  of  the  Union 
and  added  lustre  to  them  all. 

He  recast  Surgical  Science,  as  taught  in  North  America,  formulated  anew  its 
Principles,  enlarged  its  domain,  added  to  its  art,  and  imparted  fresh  impetus  to 
its  study. 

He  composed  many  Books,  and  among  them 

A    SYSTEM  OF   SURGERY, 

Which  is  read  in  different  tongues,  wherever  the  Healing  Art  is  practised. 

With  a  great  intellect,  carefully  trained  and  balanced,  he  aimed  with  undi- 
vided zeal  at  the  noble  end  of  lessening  human  suffering  and  lengthening 
human  life,  and  so  rose  to  the  highest  position  yet  attained  in  Science  by  any  of 
his  countrymen. 

Resolute  in  truth,  he  had  no  fear;  yet  he  was  both  tolerant  and  charitable. 

Living  in  enlightened  fellowship  with  all  laborers  in  the  world  of  Science, 
he  was  greatly  honored  by  the  learned  in  foreign  lands,  and  deeply  loved  at 
home. 

BEHIND  THE  VEIL  OF  THIS   LIFE  THERE   IS   A   MYSTERY  WHICH   HE 
PENETRATED  ON   THE 

SIXTH  DA  V  OF  MA  Y,  1884. 


His    Memory 

Shall  exhort  and  his  Example  shall  encourage  and  persuade  those  who  come 
after  him  to  emulate  deeds  which,  great  in  themselves,  were  all  crowned  by  the 
milk-white  flower  of 

A  STAINLESS  LIFE." 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


2  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

German  descent,  their  grandparents  having  emigrated,  as 
early  as  the  seventeenth  century,  from  the  Lower  Palati- 
nate. Many  of  the  Pennsylvania  Germans  who  had  come 
from  that  region  at  about  the  same  period  settled  in 
Lancaster,  Chester,  Montgomery,  Bucks,  and  Northamp- 
ton counties.  My  father,  Philip  Gross,  was  highly  dis- 
tinguished for  his  integrity,  for  the  elegance  of  his  farm, 
and  for  the  beauty  of  his  horses,  which  were  amongst 
the  finest  in  the  country.  The  farm  embraced  two 
hundred  acres  of  the  best  land,  in  a  high  state  of  cul- 
tivation, with  an  excellent  orchard,  famed  for  its  good 
fruit.  My  father  was  a  tall,  handsome  man,  with  light- 
blue  eyes,  a  well-shaped  mouth,  a  neatly-shaved  face, 
and  a  high  bald  head.  He  was  of  a  kind,  generous  dis- 
position. His  moral  character  was  cast  in  the  finest 
mould  ;  he  was  popular  with  his  neighbors,  by  whom  he 
was  much  respected  as  an  upright  citizen.  During  the 
war  of  the  Revolution,  which  occurred  in  the  maturity 
of  his  manhood,  he  spent  his  time  and  money  freely 
in  the  service  of  the  Government,  in  connection  with  the 
Quartermaster's  Department,  at  Valley  Forge  and  other 
points  in  Eastern  Pennsylvania.  Of  his  religious  convic- 
tions, if  he  had  any,  I  am  ignorant.  All  that  I  remember 
is  that  he  was  brought  up,  as  his  parents  had  been,  in  the 
Lutheran  Church.  He  died  in  November,  1813,  at  the  age 
of  fifty-six,  when  I  was  in  my  ninth  year.  He  had  long 
been  an  invalid,  and  was  finally  seized  with  apoplexy, 
which  proved  fatal  in  a  few  days.  He  was  buried  at 
Salem  Church,  two  miles  from  his  residence. 

My  mother,  whose  maiden  name  was  Brown,  survived 
my  father  many  years,  dying  in  March,  1853,  at  the  ad- 
vanced age  of  eighty-six.  She  was  nearly  all  her  life  a 
victim  of  asthma.  She  was  a  woman  of  a  noble,  tender, 
and  loving  heart,  a  most  excellent  wife  and  mother.  She 
was  a  devoted  member  of  the  Lutheran  Church,  and  spent 
most  of  her  later  years  in  the  perusal  of  her  Bible  and 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  3 

other  religious  works.  In  truth,  she  was  a  most  pure  and 
exemplary  Christian,  full  of  faith  in  the  promises  of  the 
Redeemer.  To  her  good  training  I  am  indebted,  under 
Providence,  for  the  moral  part  of  my  character.  Her 
early  advice  and  admonition,  prompted  by  a  heart  that 
never  knew  any  guile  or  deceit,  served  to  guide  me  through 
the  thorny  paths  of  bo}-hood  and  youth  free  from  the  vices 
which  so  easily  beset  us  at  those  tender  periods  of  our 
existence.  It  was  she  who  taught  me  to  revere  religion, 
to  love  my  neighbor,  and  to  respect  the  laws.  No  one  who 
has  not  experienced  it  can  fully  appreciate  the  influence 
which  a  mother's  precepts  and  example  exert  upon  the 
character  of  a  child.  It  is  incomparably  greater  than  that 
of  the  father  ;  it  has  something  in  it  so  pure  and  holy  that 
it  associates  her  in  his  mind  with  all  that  is  good  and  lovely 
in  our  nature.  The  child  looks  upon  her  as  a  guardian 
angel,  who  watches  by  day  and  by  night  ever>'  step  that 
he  takes,  every  word  he  utters,  every  action  he  performs, 
and  who  is  ever  ready  to  applaud  or  to  chide  him,  accord- 
ing to  the  conduct  he  exhibits.  So  true  is  all  this  that 
it  may  be  assumed,  as  an  axiom  in  morals,  that  a  boy 
who  has  had  a  good  and  devoted  mother  can  never  be 
a  bad  man.  His  conscience  would  not  permit  it,  despite 
the  worst  cerebral  and  mental  organization.  It  is  ever 
present  to  recall  the  image  of  the  fond  mother.  It  consti- 
tutes a  shield  and  a  buckler,  which  protect  him  from  the 
bad  influences  by  which  he  is  surrounded,  and  which  are 
so  peculiarly  trying  to  the  young  and  inexperienced. 

I  had  two  sisters  and  three  brothers.  My  brother,  the 
Rev.  Joseph  B.  Gross,  was  for  many  years  a  clergyman  of 
the  Lutheran  Church,  a  man  of  varied  learning,  unusual 
intelligence,  and  of  very  respectable  talents.  He  has  writ- 
ten a  number  of  works,  the  great  aim  of  which  has  been 
to  set  forth  the  origin  and  progressive  development  of  re- 
ligious ideas  and  worship  among  mankind  ;  to  point  out 
the  fallacies  as  well  as  the  evil  tendencies  of  numerous  so- 


4  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

called  orthodox  articles  of  faith  ;  to  vindicate  and  enforce 
the  true  teachings  and  nnadulterated  principles  of  the  Gos- 
pel ;  to  suggest  and  inculcate  various  social  and  political 
reforms  ;  and  to  introduce  to  the  notice  of  the  public  vari- 
ous interesting  and  important  historical  and  scientific  facts 
for  the  greater  enlightenment  of  the  people. 

Reared  as  I  was  in  the  countr>^,  my  childhood  was  ex- 
empt from  all  the  vices  and  allurements  which  so  con- 
stantly beset  the  life  of  a  boy  brought  up  in  a  city. 
My  only  companions  were  a  few  lads  in  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  my  father's  residence,  who,  like  myself, 
were  brought  up  in  ' '  the  fear  and  admonition  of  the 
Lord,"  and  whose  chief  amusements  were  of  a  perfectly 
innocent  character.  I  had  naturally  a  great  horror  of 
everything  that  was  vicious  or  immoral.  My  ' '  conscien- 
tiousness," as  the  phrenologists  term  it,  was  highly  de- 
veloped. My  timidity  was  remarkable,  and  followed  me, 
often  most  cruelly,  late  into  life.  In  my  boyish  days, 
and  even  after  I  had  become  a  student  of  medicine,  I 
rarely  spoke  to  any  one  older  than  myself  without 
blushing.  ]\Iy  early  habits  no  doubt  greatly  contributed 
to  bring  about  and  keep  up  this  painful  feeling.  My 
father,  although  he  died  comparatively  young,  was  free 
from  vice  and  gave  me  a  good  constitution — one  which, 
combined  with  prudence  as  respects  my  mode  of  living,  has 
enabled  me  to  do  an  enormous  amount  of  work  as  a  prac- 
titioner, a  writer,  and  a  lecturer,  and  which  has  carried 
me,  thus  far  safely,  into  my  seventy-first  year.  I  thank 
God  that  during  my  early  days  I  enjoyed  the  advantages 
of  pure  country  air  and  of  a  pure  country  life ! 

My  parents  had  a  perfect  appreciation  of  the  importance 
of  mental  training,  and  accordingly  embraced  every  oppor- 
tunity to  send  me  to  school.  I  was  not  seven  years  of  age 
when  I  entered  upon  this  task — a  task  which  no  boy  ever 
detested  more  than  I  did.  My  recollection  of  my  early 
school-days  is  very  vivid.    The  schoolhouse — a  log  cabin — 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  5 

was  nearly  one  mile  from  our  house,  and  the  road  which 
led  to  it  was  far  from  pleasant.  In  bad  weather  the 
walking  was  disagreeable,  and  my  brother  and  myself 
often  sat,  despite  the  care  of  our  parents,  the  greater  part 
of  the  day  in  damp  shoes  and  stockings.  Notwithstanding 
this  we  were  quite  healthy.  The  schoolhouse  stood  in  the 
midst  of  a  beautiful  grove  of  maple  and  oak  trees,  which 
served  at  the  same  time  as  our  playground.  Ball  was  the 
common  amusement  before  the  opening  of  the  morning 
exercises,  and  also  during  the  midday  recess.  It  was  a 
sport  of  which  I  was  always  very  fond,  and  I  therefore 
often  left  home  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morning  to  in- 
dulge in  it  before  the  ringing  of  the  bell.  IMy  compan- 
ions were  the  children  of  the  neighborhood,  mostly  con- 
siderably older  than  myself,  with  none  of  whom  I  was 
ver>'  intimate.  I  had  not  been  long  in  the  spelling-book 
before  the  Old  Testament,  in  which  every  member  of 
the  class  was  expected  to  read  a  verse,  was  placed  in 
my  hands.  When  my  turn  came  I  was  always  in  a  state  of 
trepidation,  for  I  rarely  knew  my  part,  being  much  more 
intent  upon  sport  than  upon  study.  I  had  balked  and 
stammered  over  my  lessons  for  several  weeks,  when  all  at 
once,  much  to  the  surprise  of  the  teacher  and  my  class- 
mates, my  mind  seemed  to  be  unlocked,  and  I  read  with 
the  greatest  ease,  pronouncing  the  proper  jaw-breaking 
names  with  wonderful  accuracy  for  one  so  young  and  so 
shy.  From  that  time  I  began  to  take  more  interest  in  my 
studies,  and  to  tliink  less  about  play. 

The  methods  of  punishment  in  vogue  in  this  school  and 
in  similar  contemporaneous  establislimcnts  in  the  surround- 
ing countr>',  although  they  have  been  long  obsolete,  are 
worthy  of  mention  here,  as  serving  to  show  one  of  the  pe- 
culiarities of  that  period.  They  were  three  in  number, 
and  I  shall  never  forget  the  horror  which  at  least  two  of 
them  inspired  in  my  mind.  One  was  a  pair  of  large  leather 
spectacles  ;  the  second  a  red  cap  suspended  from  the  ceiling ; 


6  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

and  the  third  a  veritable  rod,  composed  of  hazelwood.  The 
last  was  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  other  two.  To 
whisper  to  one's  next  neighbor  was  an  offence  ;  to  talk 
aloud  or  laugh  was  a  crime,  sure  to  be  visited  with  a  mes- 
sage from  the  leather  spectacles.  It  was  not  often  that  I 
received  this  missive,  but  on  several  occasions  it  was,  much 
to  my  horror,  perched  upon  my  nose.  The  red  cap  was 
suspended  over  my  head  but  once,  and,  as  I  have  often 
since  been  told  by  my  brother,  two  years  and  a  half  my 
senior,  it  made  me  cut  a  most  sorry  figure,  with  a  sad, 
downcast  countenance,  indicative  of  profound  shame  and 
mortification.  My  brother's  own  feelings  were  deeply 
wounded.  The  cause  of  my  punishment  was  the  utterance 
of  a  "  naughty  word, ' '  the  import  of  which  I  did  not,  at 
the  time,  at  all  comprehend.  Of  the  rod  I  had  no  personal 
taste.  After  the  red  cap  affair  my  conduct  greatly  im- 
proved, and  I  was  never  afterwards  summoned  to  the 
teacher's  desk.  The  name  of  this  worthy,  whom  I  occa- 
sionally met  after  my  entrance  into  the  medical  profession, 
was  Seiple,  naturally  a  very  amiable  man,  but  a  rigid 
disciplinarian. 

I  cannot  say  whether  it  is  still  the  custom,  as  it  was  in 
my  early  days,  for  children,  as  they  trudge  along  to 
school,  to  take  off"  their  hats  and  to  make  their  obeisance 
whenever  they  meet  a  grown  person.  In  the  winter,  snow- 
balling was  a  universal  practice,  both  among  boys  and 
girls,  and  it  was  not  uncommon  for  boys  not  connected 
with  the  school,  as  they  passed  along,  to  be  severely  pelted, 
half  a  dozen  urchins  perhaps  setting  upon  them  at  one 
time. 

In  two  instances  two  young  fellows,  who  were  in  love 
with  the  same  girl,  engaged  for  a  long  time  in  a  hand-to- 
hand  fight  almost  every  evening  after  the  school  was  dis- 
missed. As  these  rencounters  occurred  on  the  highway, 
the  teacher  was  powerless ;  it  is  true,  he  took  them  to  task 
about  it,   and  threatened  dismissal.     Things  went  on  in 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  7 

this  way  until  one  evening  one  of  the  young  scamps  threw 
a  handful  of  ashes  into  the  other's  eyes ;  this  was  followed 
the  next  morning  by  the  peremptory  expulsion  of  both. 
The  young  girl,  a  pretty  little  blonde,  the  bone  of  this 
contention,  seemed  to  enjoy  the  fun  amazingly.  What 
ultimately  became  of  her  I  never  learned. 

The  morning  exercises  were  generally  opened  with  the 
singing  of  a  short  hymn,  or  with  a  brief  prayer.  In  some 
of  the  schools  the  children  recited  in  common,  producing 
thus  a  jarring,  buzzing  noise,  which  fell  harshly  upon 
the  ear,  and  was  in  every  way  objectionable,  as  tending 
to  cause  confusion  and  to  assist  in  concealing  ignorance. 

After  the  death  of  my  father  the  old  homestead  was  sold, 
and  my  mother  moved  into  a  small  rented  house  a  few 
miles  off — a  maternal  uncle,  who  had  taken  a  fancy  to  me, 
taking  charge  of  me.  He  was  a  good-natured  man,  not 
distinguished  for  any  special  quality,  without  children,  and 
always  very  kind  to  me.  During  my  sojourn  with  him  my 
chief  occupations  were  to  go  to  school  in  the  winter,  to  snare 
rabbits  in  the  autumn,  to  shoot  birds  with  a  bow-gun  in 
the  spring,  to  pitch  quoits  and  play  ball,  and  to  play  cards 
in  the  long  winter  nights  with  him  and  with  his  neighbors. 
As  he  lived  several  miles  from  the  nearest  church,  it  did 
not  often  fall  to  my  lot  to  attend  divine  worship  ;  and  yet, 
strange  to  say,  notwithstanding  many  temptations,  I  never 
consciously  did  a  mean  thing.  I  had  naturally  a  high 
moral  sense,  and  an  utter  detestation  of  misconduct  and 
crime.  I  was  known  throughout  the  neighborhood  as  an 
honest,  steady  boy,  so  sober,  thoughtful,  and  quiet  as  to 
have  earned,  at  a  very  early  age,  the  sobriquet  of  "Judge." 
At  play  I  was  always  uncommonly  active,  and  there  were 
few  lads  of  my  years  who  excelled  me  in  manly  exercises. 
Of  quoits  I  was  extremely  fond,  and  if  I  had  engaged  in 
that  kind  of  amusement  as  a  means  of  livelihood,  I  am  sure 
I  should  have  made  money  at  it.  I  was,  in  fact,  an  expert 
in  it.    Pitching  pennies  was  another  occupation  to  which  I 


8  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

was  much  devoted,  and  in  which  no  youth  of  my  age  in  the 
neighborhood  excelled  me.  Pitching  for  "keeps"  was  al- 
ways very  exciting,  and  never  failed  to  be  attended  with 
advantage.  Even  now,  at  the  distance  of  half  a  century,  I 
can  most  vividly  recall  many  of  the  very  spots  which  served 
as  the  arenas  of  this  agreeable  pastime.  One  hundred  and 
fifty  to  two  hundred  pennies  were  not  unfrequently  clus- 
tered around  the  ' '  meg' '  at  a  time,  and  formed  too  great  a 
bulk  to  be  removed  in  one  handful.  To  pick  up  the 
' '  heads' '  was  most  exciting  sport,  not  unlike  that  which  a 
lucky  sportsman  experiences  in  bagging  his  game. 

One  of  the  earliest  acts  of  kindness  shown  me  by  my 
imcle  was  a  present  of  a  "bow-gun,"  in  the  exercise  of 
which  I  became  an  adept,  both  in  target-shooting  and 
in  the  killing  of  birds.  Holidays  were  more  or  less 
given  up  to  this  kind  of  amusement,  generally  in  com- 
pany with  some  of  the  boys  in  the  vicinity.  Many  a  bird 
fell  a  victim  to  my  deadly  aim,  the  thrush  in  particular, 
as  he  hopped  about  among  the  briers  by  the  fence  side ; 
sometimes  a  woodpecker,  and  now  and  then  a  robin,  a  jay, 
or  a  catbird. 

These  various  exercises  were  not  without  benefit  to  me 
in  after  life  in  the  practice  of  my  profession,  inasmuch  as 
they  served  to  impart  precision  to  the  eye  and  hand,  com- 
pelling them  to  move  in  concert  with  each  other,  so  neces- 
sary in  handling  a  knife  in  performing  operations.  Pitch- 
ing quoits  is  particularly  useful  in  this  respect,  and  should 
be  diligently  cultivated  by  young  men  destined  for  a  pro- 
fession in  which  manual  dexterity  and  great  accuracy  of 
eye  are  essential  elements. 

As  I  grew  older  I  laid  aside  my  bow-gun  for  the  shot- 
gim,  and  "gunning,"  as  it  is  called,  was  for  many  years  a 
favorite  sport  with  me.  Davy  Crockett,  it  has  been  said, 
could  bring  down  any  squirrel  from  the  highest  tree  ;  my 
accomplishments  never  extended  so  far,  though  my  shot 
often  performed  its  mission  with  unerring  effect.     I  never 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  9 

killed  a  deer  or  a  fox,  and  I  was  never  engaged  in  that 
very  animating  sport  known  as  bear-hunting. 

In  the  autumn  a  regular  part  of  my  occupation  was  rab- 
bit-snaring, an  art  of  which  I  was  passionately  fond,  and 
in  which  I  usually  did  a  good  business,  considering  that 
rabbits  were  not  particularly  numerous  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. The  season  generally  began  about  the  middle  of 
October,  when  the  foliage  was  pretty  well  off  the  trees,  and 
terminated  about  the  close  of  November.  An  adjoining 
wood  thickly  studded  with  underbrush  always  served  as 
the  field  of  my  operations.  After  the  snares  were  set  the 
visits  were  invariably  made  early  the  next  morning,  so  that 
I  could  return  in  time  for  breakfast.  It  was  seldom  that  I 
brought  home  more  than  two  or  three  rabbits,  and  some- 
times I  came  back  without  any.  On  rare  occasions  the 
animal  would  be  found  alive,  his  hind  leg  instead  of  the 
neck  having  been  caught  in  the  noose,  a  circumstance 
which  always  greatly  enhanced  the  excitement.  In  the 
winter,  when  the  ground  was  covered  with  snow,  I  some- 
times "treed'*  a  rabbit,  and  smoked  him  out  of  his  lodg- 
ings. The  labor  required  to  accomplish  this  feat  was  often 
very  considerable,  and  was  generally  the  more  exciting,  as 
it  was  nearly  alwa}'S  performed  by  several  boys,  who  vied 
one  with  another  for  the  possession  of  the  prize. 

I  do  not  know  whether  rabbit-snaring  is  still  practised 
or  not.  To  me  it  was  a  most  delightful  and  healthful 
occupation.  The  process  is  a  simple  one.  The  whole 
apparatus  consists  of  a  stick  of  live  underwood,  a  piece  of 
twine  two  feet  and  a  half  long,  a  cylinder  of  wood  with  a 
part  of  an  apple  fastened  on  the  end,  and  half  a  dozen  short, 
slender  twigs  placed  circularly  in  the  ground  to  keep  the 
noose  extended.  The  rabbit,  attracted  by  the  fragrance  of 
the  apple,  is  strung  up  the  moment  he  touches  it,  being 
thus  speedily  and  unceremoniously  strangled  by  the  re- 
bound of  the  stick  which  holds  the  cord. 

During  my  early  boyhood  one  of  my  favorite  amuse- 


lO  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

ments  was  liiintiiig  birds'  uests  in  my  father's  orchard, 
which,  although  not  very  extensive,  embraced  many  fine 
trees.  These  nests  were  alwa}'s  appropriated  by  the  first 
finder,  who  carefully  watched  them,  and  afforded  the 
birds  every  possible  protection  during  the  hatching  season. 
Sometimes  disputes  arose  between  my  brothers  and  myself 
respecting  the  ownership,  but  these  were  generally  amicably 
adjusted,  the  rights  of  the  original  discoverer  being  always 
scrupulously  respected.  The  occupants  of  the  orchard  were 
the  dove,  bluebird,  robin,  wren,  woodpecker,  and  Balti- 
more oriole,  whose  nest  hung  literally  in  the  air.  Of  course, 
no  one  could  approach.  No  gun  was  ever  heard  in  the  or- 
chard, and  the  consequence  was  that  all  the  birds  were  un- 
usually tame. 

I  visited  this  orchard  fifty  years  after  I  had  left  it  as  a 
boy.  All  its  beauty  had  disappeared.  Only  eleven  apple 
trees  remained  to  tell  the  sad  story,  and  they  were  gray 
and  hoary  with  the  frosts  of  many  winters,  full  of  dead 
branches,  and  without  a  sign  of  fruit.  They  had  passed 
the  period  of  bearing,  and  were  in  the  sear  and  yellow  leaf 
of  autumn,  the  dilapidated  survivors  of  a  former  generation, 
sad  emblems  of  the  frailty  and  decay  of  human  life  !  The 
very  house  in  which  I  was  born  had  disappeared  ;  the 
grand  barn  and  all  the  outhouses  were  gone,  and  one  small 
stable  alone  stood  to  mark  the  spot,  near  which  was  our 
daily  playground.  Even  the  avenue  leading  from  the 
main  road  to  the  old  house,  lined  on  each  side  in  my  early 
boyhood  with  cherry  and  Lombardy  poplar  trees,  was  no 
longer  visible.  The  little  wood  which  served  as  my  garden 
was  utterly  effaced.  What  rendered  the  visit  more  sad 
and  impressive  was  that,  on  the  day  on  which  it  was 
made,  early  in  October,  not  a  human  being  was  on  the 
premises,  the  residents  being  in  attendance  upon  a  funeral 
in  the  neighborhood. 

Fighting  humble-bees,  wasps,  hornets,  and  yellow-jackets 
is  a  favorite  pursuit  with  all  boys  on  farms,  and  of  this 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,    M.D. 


II 


kind  of  work  I  did  my  share  in  my  childish  days,  receiving 
many  a  sting  as  the  reward  of  my  temerity  and  cruelty.  A 
swollen  lip,  cheek,  or  eyelid  was  of  common  occurrence. 
Of  all  these  insects,  none  sting  more  ferociously  than  the 
hornet  and  yellow-jacket,  especially  during  the  procreating 
season.  The  honey  of  the  humble-bee  was  a  poor  compen- 
sation for  the  suifering  thus  endured.  Hornets'  nests  were 
usually  assailed  with  stones ;  the  others  with  sticks  and 
clubs.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  I  could  still  hear  their  angry 
buzzing,  whining  sounds,  as  they  sailed  in  straight  lines  to 
revenge  themselves  upon  their  assailants.  These  were 
cruel  sports,  certainly,  and  yet  they  were  perhaps,  in  view 
of  the  rapid  multiplication  of  these  insects,  not  without 
their  value. 

Of  fishing  I  was  excessively  fond  as  a  boy,  although  I 
never  had  much  luck ;  and  after  I  grew  up  I  rarely  in- 
dulged in  it,  believing  that  the  definition  of  the  great  lexi- 
cographer is  not  without  its  significance — "  A  bait  and  a 
hook  at  one  end  and  a  fool  at  the  other. ' '  On  two  occa- 
sions I  spent  a  whole  night  in  "gigging,"  as  it  is  called, 
in  company  with  some  neighboring  boys,  and  succeeded  in 
carr\dng  off  a  goodly  number  of  the  finny  tribe,  dazed 
by  our  torchlights,  constructed  of  the  bark  of  the  birch 
tree.  It  was  fine  sport,  carried  on  in  a  hot  summer's  night, 
standing  often  up  to  the  waist  in  the  water,  and  excited  to 
the  highest  pitch  by  surrounding  events,  the  merry  laugh, 
and  the  recital  of  a  good  story. 

Among  the  books  which  formed  my  uncle's  library,  those 
in  which  I  took  the  greatest  interest  were  the  Bible,  ^sop's 
Fables,  almanacs,  and  some  volumes  of  geography,  his- 
tor>',  and  romance.  Of  these  books,  my  favorites  were 
the  Bible,  especially  the  Old  Testament,  and  ^sop's 
Fables.  The  latter  was  an  illustrated  edition,  and  served 
to  beguile  many  a  lonely  hour.  Among  my  father's  books 
was  one  on  the  Witches  of  the  Hartz  Mountains,  with  a 
ver>-  curious  wood-cut,  representing  these  poor  creatures, 


12  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

always  in  women's  attire,  as  riding  on  pitchforks  and 
broomsticks.  The  work,  a  good-sized  duodecimo,  was 
adorned  with  red  margins,  now  so  fashionable,  and  was 
printed  near  the  middle  of  the  last  century.  The  stories 
in  the  Old  Testament  interested  me  very  much,  and  before 
I  was  fifteen  years  of  age  I  had  read  the  entire  Bible,  with 
what  understanding  I  will  not  pretend  to  say.  Of  alma- 
nacs I  was  always  very  fond,  and  even  now  I  am  often  en- 
tertained by  this  kind  of  reading.  The  fact  is,  good  alma- 
nacs generally  furnish  a  great  deal  of  valuable  information, 
and  it  is  not  surprising  that  old  ones  should  often  command 
a  high  price  at  public  sales.  The  elegant  almanacs  which 
during  the  last  ten  years  have  been  annually  published 
by  Mr.  George  W.  Childs,  proprietor  of  the  Philadelphia 
Public  Ledger,  will  be  regarded  as  great  literary  treasures 
a  hundred  years  hence.  What  would  a  man  not  now 
give  for  a  copy  of  Poor  Richard's  Almanac,  the  product 
of  the  brain,  pen,  and  printing-press  of  Benjamin  Franklin? 

During  my  stay  with  my  uncle  I  led,  in  the  main,  a  very 
easy  kind  of  life.  In  the  winter  my  time  was  regularly 
spent  at  school ;  and,  although  I  was  a  careless  boy,  more 
devoted  to  amusement  than  to  study,  I  nevertheless  picked 
up  a  considerable  amount  of  valuable  knowledge.  The 
schoolhouse  was  a  log  cabin,  very  simply  furnished,  but 
well  warmed  and  sufficiently  comfortable,  affording  accom- 
m.odations  for  upwards  of  thirty  boys  and  girls,  from  the 
ages  of  eight  or  nine  to  nearly  twenty.  Among  them  was 
a  beautiful  maiden,  with  blue  eyes  and  flaxen  hair,  with 
whom  I  fell  desperately  in  love,  without,  however,  dis- 
closing my  passion,  which  my  great  diffidence  prevented 
me  from  doing.  She  was  by  several  years  my  senior,  and, 
finding  that  I  had  a  rival,  I  wisely  remained  silent.  An 
altercation  afterwards  took  place  between  him  and  another 
suitor,  eventuating  in  a  serious  hand-to-hand  fight,  followed 
by  black  eyes  and  no  little  scandal  throughout  the  school. 

There  never  was   a   greater   truism   uttered   than   that 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,    M.  D.  13 

"Every  lassie  has  her  laddie."  Falling  in  love  is  a  natu- 
ral consequence  of  our  nature.  Long  before  I  was  seven 
years  of  age  I  was  desperately  smitten ;  indeed,  to  such  a 
degree  that  I  was  rendered  miserable.  I  shall  never  forget 
little  Phcebe  Van  B. ,  a  girl  somewhat  younger  than  myself, 
with  pale  features,  light  eyes  and  hair,  and  a  sweet,  gentle 
voice,  who  was  the  early  object  of  my  adoration.  Her 
image  is  still  fresh  in  my  memory,  although  of  the  original 
I  lost  sight  before  I  was  fourteen  years  old.  Our  attach- 
ment was  strong  and  mutual,  and  for  many  months  we 
were  inseparable  companions,  happy  only  in  each  other's 
society.  I  have  seen  so  many  instances  of  this  ' '  falling  in 
love"  among  very  young  children  that  I  long  ago  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  it  is  one  of  the  physiological  conditions 
of  our  organization.  The  occurrence  is  not  unfrequently 
attended  with  an  amount  of  gallantry  that  would  put  to 
blush  older  lovers. 

In  my  early  childhood  I  was  passionately  fond  of  flowers, 
and  before  I  was  seven  years  old  had  a  little  garden  in  a 
secluded  dell,  lined  by  rocks  and  fringed  by  small  forest 
trees,  in  which  I  cultivated  the  columbine,  the  poppy,  the 
anemone,  and  other  wild  flowers.  It  was  a  sort  of  fairy 
spot,  in  which,  in  the  early  spring  and  summer,  many  of 
my  happiest  hours  were  spent.  Rasselas,  prince  of  Abys- 
sinia, in  his  wildest  fancies,  was  never  more  happy  in  the 
valley  of  Amhara  than  I  was  in  this  secluded  spot,  to 
which,  even  now,  my  mind  often  reverts  with  pleasurable 
emotions.     My  childhood  was  indeed  a  most  joyous  one. 

The  chief  holidays  at  that  period  were  Christmas,  New 
Year,  and  Easter.  These  seemed  to  be  much  farther  apart 
then  than  now,  and  their  arrival  was  always  anticipated 
with  a  kind  of  joyous  anxiety.  Kriss  Kringle  always 
brought  gifts,  of  which  cakes  formed  an  important  part. 
Children's  books  had  not  then  so  independent  an  existence 
as  they  have  now.  Like  angels'  visits,  they  were  "few  and 
far  between. ' '    The  colored  Easter-egg  came  regularly  with 


14  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

even-  revolving  year,  concealed  in  the  grass  in  the  family 
garden,  as  the  gift  of  the  rabbits — a  pretty  idea,  imported 
originally  from  Germany,  and  of  late  years  so  much  neglected 
that  there  is  danger  of  the  custom  becoming  obsolete.  The 
New  Year  was  alwa}s  ushered  in  by  the  firing  of  guns  and 
pistols,  commencing  punctually  immediately  after  the  clock 
struck  twelve,  the  party  consisting  of  old  and  young 
men,  assembled  from  the  vicinity,  and  growing  steadily  by 
accretion  as  they  passed  from  house  to  house,  extending 
happy  greetings  to  their  friends,  followed  by  the  simulta- 
neous discharge  of  their  guns.  On  such  occasions  it  was 
not  uncommon  for  the  younger  members  of  the  party  to 
make  sentimental  addresses  to  their  sweethearts.  Coffee, 
cake,  and  sausages  were  always  served  after  the  greetings 
were  over,  and  the  merriment  was  often  enhanced  by  the 
circulation  of  ' '  the  intoxicating  bowl. ' '  These  New  Year 
greetings,  which  w^ere  peculiar  to  the  German  settlements, 
were  often  continued  until  a  late  hour  in  the  morning,  and 
were  seldom  attended  by  any  mishaps,  social  or  physical. 

In  my  childhood  I  was  a  finn  believer  in  ghosts,  witches, 
hobgoblins,  devils,  evil  spirits,  and,  in  short,  everything 
that  was  weird  or  supernatural.  I  believed  that  the  very  air 
was  filled  with  these  creatures,  that  they  were  on  the  con- 
stant lookout  for  bad  people,  and  that  they  were  particu- 
larly wicked  and  dangerous  at  night.  During  one  winter 
I  lived  near  a  church,  the  graveyard  of  which  I  never 
passed  without  whistling  or  a  sense  of  horripilation ;  whis- 
tling to  keep  the  ghosts  away  and  to  tell  the  family  where 
I  might  be  found  in  case  of  an  attack.  After  I  became  a 
student  of  medicine  I  could  have  slept  comfortably,  cer- 
tainly without  fear,  amid  a  hundred  corpses.  This  feeling 
was  not  peculiar  to  me  ;  it  was  shared  by  all  the  younger 
members  of  the  family  and  by  all  the  children  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. It  made  me  for  a  long  time  a  great  coward, 
afraid  to  go  out  at  night,  or  to  sleep  alone  in  the  dark.  I 
was  more  than  twelve  years  of  age  before  I  was  able  to 


-    SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   Af.  D.  15 

shake  off  these  terrible  impressions  of  my  childhood,  the  re- 
sult, not  of  superstition  on  the  part  of  my  parents,  who 
knew  better,  but  of  an  education  designed  to  make  me 
good  by  inducing  me  to  believe  that  all  my  acts  were 
watched,  and  that  these  acts  would  be  rewarded  or  pun- 
ished according  as  they  were  good  or  bad. 

Children  are  emphatically  the  creatures  of  circumstances. 
The  prejudices  in  which  they  are  reared  are  sure  to  influ- 
ence them,  if  not  during  their  whole  lives,  at  any  rate  for 
a  long  time,  or  until  they  are  counteracted  by  other  sur- 
roundings or  by  riper  reasoning  powders.  There  is  hardly  a 
child  that  is  not  impressed  with  the  conviction  that  Santa 
Claus  is  a  reality,  a  sort  of  mystic  personage,  living  in  a 
cave  or  some  secluded  valley,  and  coming  down  the  chim- 
ney on  Christmas  nights  to  dispense  his  favors.  This  be- 
lief, handed  down  from  generation  to  generation,  from 
parents  to  their  offspring,  is  a  delightful  delusion  which 
seldom  leaves  the  mind  before  the  sixth  or  eighth  year  of 
childhood. 

One  of  my  uncle's  amusements,  as  I  have  mentioned, 
was  playing  cards,  in  which  I  myself  soon  became  quite 
a  proficient.  Whenever  a  hand  was  needed  I  was  ready 
to  fill  the  gap.  My  favorite  games  were  euchre  and 
seven-up.  I  never  learned  Boaston  or  poker,  not  having 
had  the  advantage  of  General  Schenck's  instruction.  In 
time  I  became  very  fond  of  cards  ;  we  often  sat  at  the  table 
until  a  late  hour  of  the  night,  and  after  I  retired  I  was  sure 
to  dream  of  them,  the  cards  often  floating,  as  it  were,  bodily 
before  my  eyes.  I  found  that  this  would  not  do  ;  the  fas- 
cination was  growing  upon  me,  and  I  therefore  determined 
to  break  it  up.  This  I  did  before  I  had  reached  my  four- 
teenth year.  I  made  a  vow  that  I  would  not  play  again 
for  twenty  years,  and  this  vow  I  scrupulously  observed 
during  all  that  period.  To  conquer  one's  self  requires  reso- 
lution, often  great  courage ;  but  the  effort,  if  persistent 
and  earnest,  seldom  fails  of  its  purpose.     No  man  should 


1 6  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

allow  himself  to  become  a  slave  to  habit  or  to  anything 
whatever.  It  is  better,  as  Rip  \'an  Winkle  says,  to  swear 
off,  and  to  assert  his  independence. 

I  must  not  forget  to  mention  that  during  the  cherr}'  sea- 
son I  occasionally  killed  a  woodpecker  in  a  novel  and  cu- 
rious manner.  A  thin,  slender  pole  was  inserted  in  the 
ground  close  to  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  with  the  other  end 
protruding  at  the  top.  When  the  bird  had  obtained  his 
cherr}-  he  would  perch  upon  the  side  of  the  top  of  the  pole 
to  eat  it  at  his  leisure.  The  moment  he  was  fairly  seated 
in  his  fancied  securit}'  the  pole  was  struck  below  with  an 
axe,  causing  thus  a  violent  vibration,  which,  sent  through 
the  legs  of  the  poor  bird  to  the  spinal  cord  and  brain,  gen- 
erally occasioned  instantaneous  death  by  concussion  of  the 
nervous  centres.  In  my  work  on  Surger}'  I  have  referred 
to  this  operation  as  an  apt  illustration  of  the  mode  of  pro- 
duction of  concussion  of  the  brain  and  spinal  cord  from 
falls  on  the  feet  and  nates. 

Leaving  my  uncle  in  my  fifteenth  year,  I  went  back  to 
my  mother,  and  bethought  me  of  some  useful  occupa- 
tion during  the  rest  of  my  life.  Various  suggestions  were 
made  to  me,  but  none  were  sufficiently  enticing  to  induce 
me  to  adopt  them.  I  had  had  from  my  earliest  childhood 
the  strongest  desire  to  be  a  "doctor."  How  that  feeling 
was  engendered  I  have  never  been  able  to  explain.  Per- 
haps it  was  from  seeing  occasionally  a  physician  at  my 
father' s  house  in  times  of  sickness.  However  this  may  have 
been,  this  desire  had  seized  me  before  I  was  six  years  of  age, 
and  continued  to  haunt  me  more  or  less  until  I  was  able  to 
gratify  it.  There  are  natural-born  poets  ;  and,  if  there  ever 
was  a  natural-born  doctor,  I  was  that  one.  The  impulse  was 
too  strong  to  be  resisted.  My  views  of  life  now  became 
somewhat  settled ;  and,  as  my  education  was  still  ver>'  de- 
fective, I  at  once  began  to  remedy  it.  I  had  made  consider- 
able progress  in  the  study  of  the  German  language ;  I  had 
read  quite  a  number  of  books,  and  was  able  to  write  Ger- 


'      SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  17 

man  with  some  ability.  My  English  had  been  neglected, 
and  I  therefore  determined  to  take  up  the  language  sys- 
tematically. I  also,  in  due  time,  commenced  the  study 
of  the  Latin  language.  My  progress,  however,  was  not 
rapid  in  either.  I  had  been  brought  up  in  a  German  set- 
tlement, and  therefore  knew  practically  little  of  English. 
This  was  a  serious  impediment,  and  it  cost  me  much 
labor  and  trouble  to  surmount  it.  Then,  again,  my  early 
teachers  were  themselves  indifferent  English  scholars  ;  and 
my  progress  would  have  been  still  less  if  I  had  not  by  this 
time  become  thoroughly  impressed  with  the  necessity  of 
self-reliance  and  hard  work.  I  labored  diligently  at  my 
books,  and  made  considerable  progress  in  reading,  com- 
position, and  arithmetic.  Latin  dragged  heavily  along, 
and  as  yet  I  had  not  attempted  Greek.  Indeed,  there  was 
no  one  in  the  neighborhood  who  had  much  acquaintance 
with  the  classics. 

At  the  age  of  seventeen  I  considered  myself  competent 
to  commence  the  study  of  medicine,  and  I  accordingly  en- 
tered the  office  of  a  country  physician  ;  but  he  afforded  me 
no  aid,  and  I  therefore  soon  quit  him  and  tried  another, 
with  no  better  luck.  They  had  none  but  old,  if  not  obso- 
lete, books  ;  they  were  constantly  from  home,  never  exam- 
ined me,  or  gave  me  any  encouragement.  With  the  aid  of 
Fyfe's  Anatomy  and  a  skeleton,  I  learned  some  osteology ; 
but  even  this  was  up-hill  business,  and  I  at  length  gave  up 
in  despair,  I  found  that  my  Latin  was  inadequate,  and  that 
I  could  not  understand  the  technicalities  of  medicine  with- 
out some  knowledge  of  Greek.  With  some  degree  of  hesi- 
tancy, lest  I  should  give  ofTence,  I  disclosed  my  feelings  to 
my  preceptor,  and,  much  to  his  honor,  he  at  once  released 
me  from  any  obligations  to  serve  out  my  term  of  study. 
This  was  the  turning-point  in  7ny  life.  I  had  pondered  the 
matter  with  much  care ;  it  had  worried  and  fretted  me 
for  days  and  nights ;  and,  as  I  was  naturally  very  diffi- 
dent, it  required  all  the  courage  I  could  summon  to  make 
1—3 


l8  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

known  my  wishes.  The  promptness  with  which  they 
were  seconded  gave  me  such  relief  that  I  once  more  drew 
a  long  and  comfortable  breath.  I  had  made  a  great  dis- 
covery— a  knowledge  of  my  ignorance  ;  and  with  it  came 
a  solemn  determination  to  remedy  it. 

The  school  which  I  selected  was  the  Academy  at  Wilkes- 
barre,  famous  in  its  day  for  the  large  number  of  its  pupils, 
and  at  the  time  under  the  charge  of  Mr. ,  afterwards  Judge, 
Joel  Jones,  a  graduate  of  Yale  College,  a  gentleman  of 
great  kindness  of  heart,  a  good  linguist  and  an  excellent 
teacher.  He  was  assisted  by  a  brother,  Mr.  Samuel 
Jones,  who  was  afterwards  for  many  years  the  principal  of 
a  celebrated  classical  school  in  Philadelphia.  I  lost  no 
time  in  beginning  my  studies.  Latin,  English  grammar, 
mathematics,  and  Greek  formed  my  daily  occupation,  and 
no  youth  ever  worked  harder  than  I  to  acquire  know- 
ledge. I  generally  slept  with  a  book  under  my  pillow,  es- 
pecially if  I  had  anything  to  commit  to  memory.  My 
progress  was  commendable.  Still  I  had  a  fearful  task 
before  me  in  Buttmann's  Greek  Grammar,  as  it  was  en- 
tirely too  large  and  difficult  for  a  beginner.  However,  I 
succeeded  in  mastering  a  good  portion  of  it,  and  was  able 
to  apply  a  considerable  number  of  its  rules.  This  gram- 
mar had  just  been  introduced  to  the  American  student, 
through  a  translation  by  the  late  Edward  Everett,  made 
soon  after  his  return  from  Europe,  while  tutor  at  Har- 
vard University.  My  Latin  grammar  was  that  of  Adam, 
rector  of  the  High  School  at  Edinburgh  ;  it  was  too 
voluminous  a  book  for  a  beginner,  but,  nevertheless,  a 
most  excellent  one,  which  held  its  position  for  a  long  time 
in  the  affections  of  the  European  and  American  student. 
My  English  grammar  was  an  abridgment  of  Lindley  Mur- 
ray's, for  a  long  time  the  only  grammar  used  in  this  coun- 
try. Within  the  last  forty  years  great  changes  have  taken 
place  in  school-books,  not  perhaps  always  for  the  best,  al- 
though in  many  instances  the  gain,   by  simplifying  the 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  19 

process  of  teaching,  has  been  vast.  The  only  Greek  lexi- 
con in  my  school-days  was  Schrevelius's,  which,  as  the 
definitions  were  all  in  Latin,  few  pupils  could  master. 
The  labor  thoroughly  disgusted  me,  and  the  consequence 
was  that  I  never  had  any  love  for  the  Greek  language.  To 
understand  Latin  was  hard  enough,  but  to  study  Greek 
through  such  a  medium  was  positively  absurd ;  nay,  more, 
an  insult  to  common-sense  and  an  outrage  upon  human 
nature.  Ross's  Greek  Grammar,  used  in  some  of  the 
schools  and  colleges  in  the  country,  was  constructed  upon 
the  same  principle,  and  yet  it  maintained  its  place  as  a 
text-book  for  many  years.  To  study  Greek  with  such 
agencies  was  as  severe  a  task  as  for  an  ox  to  tread  out 
com.  I  never  think  of  it  without  a  shudder,  and  wonder 
that  teachers  could  ever  have  been  so  foolish !  I  had  be- 
come a  graduate  in  medicine  when  I  saw  for  the  first  time, 
upon  the  counter  of  a  New  York  bookseller,  a  copy  of 
Groves' s  Greek  and  English  Lexicon,  then  recently  pub- 
lished. This  was  in  the  autumn  of  1828.  I  welcomed  the 
book  as  the  harbinger  of  a  new  era  in  educational  progress  ; 
the  reign  of  Ross  and  Schrevelius  was  soon  over,  and  the 
study  of  the  Greek  language  became  a  comparatively  easy 
task. 

When  Oliver  Goldsmith  went  to  Holland  it  occurred  to 
him  that  he  might  replenish  his  exhausted  purse  by  teach- 
ing the  Dutch  a  knowledge  of  the  English  language  ;  but 
he  soon  found  that  to  do  this  it  was  necessar>'  that  he 
himself  should  understand  Dutch,  and  so,  like  a  sensible 
man,  he  abandoned  the  enterprise.  What  a  pity  Ross  and 
Schrevelius  had  not  heard  this  anecdote  before  they  wrote 
their  books ! 

Studying  Greek  through  the  medium  of  the  Latin  lan- 
guage was  very  much  such  a  task  as  the  law  student  had 
before  him  when  he  attempted  to  obtain  a  knowledge  of 
his  profession  by  reading  such  jargon  as  met  his  eye  in 
Coke  upon  Littleton.     Blackstone  lifted  a  heavy  load  off 


20  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

his  brain  by  the  publication  of  his  immortal  Commenta- 
ries ;  and  what  Blackstone  did  for  the  English  student 
Kent  did  for  the  American. 

Mathematics  I  detested.  I  never  understood  the  most 
simple  rule  in  algebra.  As  to  Euclid,  I  would  rather  have 
worked  in  the  mines  of  Siberia  than  have  attempted  to 
solve  one  of  his  problems.  If  opportunity  had  offered,  I 
should  have  made  a  good  linguist ;  I  was  fond  of  the  study 
of  languages ;  and,  if  I  had  been  a  teacher,  I  should  have 
gone  over  the  ground  philosophically.  The  German  was 
my  native  tongue,  the  English  an  acquired  one  ;  and  as  to 
the  French,  although  I  could  not  speak  it,  I  translated 
it  with  facility.  The  Italian  I  read  at  one  time  sufh- 
ciently  well  to  enable  me  to  understand  some  works  in 
surgery,  which  I  was  obliged  to  consult  in  the  composition 
of  a  paper  on  the  Results  of  Surgical  Operations  in  the 
Treatment  of  Malignant  Diseases,  prepared  by  me  many 
years  ago  for  the  American  Medical  Association,  in  the 
Transactions  of  which  it  was  published. 

I  must  not  forget  to  say  a  few  words  here  of  the  Jones 
family,  of  which  Joel  was  a  member.  It  was,  in  many  re- 
spects, a  remarkable  one.  It  emigrated  from  Connecticut. 
The  mother  was  a  Huntington,  a  woman  of  great  refine- 
ment, and  of  a  strong,  vigorous  mind.  Of  the  four  sons 
Joel  became  the  most  eminent.  Quitting  teaching  he 
studied  law,  and  settled  at  Easton.  After  the  election  of 
Hon.  George  Wolf  as  Governor  of  Pennsylvania,  he  was 
appointed  one  of  the  commissioners  to  revise  the  code  of 
Pennsylvania,  and  afterwards  he  became  a  judge  of  the 
District  Court  of  Philadelphia,  an  ofhce  which  he  held  for 
several  years.  He  was  subsequently  elected  president  of 
Girard  College  and  mayor  of  the  city.  He  held  these 
ofhces,  however,  only  for  a  short  time,  and  then  returned 
to  the  bar,  at  which  he  ended  his  life.  He  was  too  honest 
and  too  sensitive  for  the  times  in  which  he  lived — utterly 
unfitted  by  nature  for  the  contentions  and  strife  of  active 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  21 

life  ;  otherwise  he  might  have  become  a  very  distin- 
guished man.  He  shrank  from  contact  with  the  world. 
He  was  a  close  student,  a  capital  linguist,  and  an  excel- 
lent Biblical  scholar.  His  library  was  extensive,  and 
abounded  in  rare  works  on  law  and  general  literature.  He 
left  behind  him  a  work  in  manuscript  on  theology,  which 
was  published  after  his  death,  and  which  was  highly 
esteemed  for  its  learning  and  piety.  He  was  essentially  a 
' '  book-worm. ' ' 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Joseph  H.  Jones,  who  was  for  many  years 
pastor  of  the  Spruce  Street  Presbyterian  Church  of  this 
city,  was  a  man  of  great  piety,  of  refined  and  cultivated 
mind,  and  of  great  activity  in  useful  and  charitable  work. 
He  was  for  many  years  president  of  the  Society  for  the 
Relief  of  Superannuated  Clergymen. 

Samuel  Jones,  a  younger  brother,  was,  as  already  stated, 
the  principal  of  a  classical  school  in  this  city,  which  he 
superintended  for  many  years,  and  which  turned  out  some 
of  the  best  educated  men  in  different  pursuits  in  Philadel- 
phia. As  a  classical  teacher  he  was  very  popular.  Late 
in  life  he  engaged  in  coal  speculations,  and  finally  died  of 
an  incurable  malady.  Matthew  Hale  Jones,  the  youngest 
male  member  of  the  family,  was  a  successful  lawyer  at 
Easton.  There  were  four  daughters,  all  highly  respectable 
women,  two  of  whom  died  in  early  life. 

The  academy  at  Wilkesbarre  was  a  celebrated  institu- 
tion in  its  day.  It  was  open  both  to  boys  and  gpirls.  After 
Mr.  Jones  left  it,  however,  it  lost  caste,  and  was  finally 
abandoned.  My  connection  with  it  lasted  only  one  year. 
I  would  have  remained  longer,  but  the  difhculty  of  induc- 
ing my  guardians  to  advance  me  the  necessary  means  em- 
barrassed me,  and  at  length  compelled  me,  much  against 
my  wishes,  to  leave  it. 

The  janitor  of  this  academy  was  a  "character,"  known 
by  the  sobriquet  of  "Old  Speck."  A  German  by  birth, 
he  represented  himself  as  one  of  Bonaparte's  soldiers.    One 


22  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

of  his  stories,  afterwards  often  repeated  to  his  annoyance, 
was  that,  during  the  retreat  of  the  grand  army  from  Russia, 
when  the  soldiers  were  hard  pressed  for  food,  he  stole  a 
dead  child,  concealed  it  in  his  knapsack,  and  finally  de- 
voured it.  The  word  ' '  speck' '  had  reference  to  this  ex- 
ploit, and  it  was  never  uttered  without  making  him  very 
angry.  Of  the  young  men  who  were  pupils  at  the  academy 
during  my  connection  with  it  few  attained  distinction. 

An  incident  occurred  during  my  residence  at  Wilkes- 
barre  which  came  very  near  proving  fatal  to  me.  My 
brother,  several  years  my  senior,  a  young  man  named 
Haynes,  to  whom  I  was  much  attached,  and  I  went 
out  bathing  one  day  in  the  Susquehanna.  It  was  late 
in  the  afternoon,  after  school  hours.  Haynes  and  I  went 
in  together;  my  brother  probably  fifty  yards  off.  I  sud- 
denly heard  a  cry  and  saw  a  struggle  in  the  water.  My 
brother  had  disappeared.  Naturally  enough  with  great 
rapidity  I  ran  to  his  aid.  He  at  once  seized  me  and  we 
went  down  together.  Fortunately  this  lasted  only  a  few 
seconds.  As  good  luck  would  have  it  we  got  upon  a  ledge 
of  rocks,  and  were  thus  saved,  after  having  been  under  the 
water  several  times.  I  shall  never  forget  the  horror  of  the 
occasion,  the  thousand  things  that  flashed,  like  lightning, 
through  my  mind,  and  the  great  relief  I  felt  when  I  was 
assured  of  a  safe  foothold.     Neither  of  us  could  swim. 

Apropos  of  Judge  Jones  :  I  had  the  pleasure  of  dining 
with  him  in  1845,  and  in  the  course  of  conversation  he 
mentioned  to  me,  in  the  presence  of  his  excellent  wife,  the 
great  awe  which  he  felt  about  the  learning  and  accomplish- 
ments of  Philadelphia  lawyers  on  his  elevation  to  the 
bench.  He  often,  he  told  me,  sat  up  till  a  late  hour  in 
the  morning  preparing  his  decisions,  until  he  found,  in  a 
short  time,  that  he  had  nothing  to  fear,  as  the  learning 
and  ability  of  the  bar  had  been  vastly  exaggerated.  Dis- 
tance had  evidently  lent  "enchantment  to  the  view." 
The  Philadelphia  bar  is  still  a  great  one,  but,  like  every 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  93 

other  bar  in  America,  it  has  lost  its  eloquence.  Any 
attempt  of  this  kind  is  now  regarded  as  useless  ;  argu- 
ments and  facts  having  taken  its  place  as  better  adapted 
to  secure  the  ends  of  justice.  The  only  exception, 
perhaps,  to  this  rule  is  in  trials  for  murder,  in  which  a 
display  of  forensic  eloquence  is  still  occasionally  wit- 
nessed. Uneducated  and  unprincipled  lawv^ers — "petti- 
foggers" as  they  are  termed — have  done  much  to  lower  and 
degrade  the  legal  profession,  just  as  similar  characters 
in  our  profession  have  defiled  our  ranks.  I  wish  we  could 
say  that  the  clergy  were  free  from  these  impure  creatures ! 

After  completing  the  year  at  Wilkesbarre  I  went  the 
following  winter  to  New  York,  where  I  attended  a  classical 
school  in  the  Bowery,  under  the  care  of  Mr.  Shea,  an  Irish 
patriot.  But  as  my  progress  here  did  not  satisfy  me,  I 
returned  at  the  end  of  six  months  to  Easton,  where  I 
found  my  former  teacher,  Mr.  Joel  Jones,  who  was  now 
a  candidate  for  practice  at  the  bar,  and  who  kindly  con- 
sented to  give  me  private  instruction  in  Latin  and  Greek. 

After  six  months  I  became  restless,  and  hearing  of  the 
High  School  at  Lawrenceville,  New  Jersey,  I  spent  the 
next  six  months  in  that  institution,  thus  completing  my 
course  of  studies.  This  school  was  then,  as  it  is  now, 
a  celebrated  institution,  attracting  pupils  from  different 
and  even  remote  States.  The  principal  was  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Isaac  Brown,  a  Presbyterian  clergyman,  a  graduate  of 
Princeton  College,  and  a  kind-hearted,  excellent,  pious 
gentleman,  who  had  made  teaching  the  business  of  his 
life.  He  was  assisted  by  several  ushers.  While  under 
his  super\'ision  I  studied  Greek  and  Latin,  geography 
and  mathematics,  and  devoted  much  time  to  miscella- 
neous reading.  Among  the  works  that  interested  me 
very  much  were  Marshall's  Life  of  Washington  and 
Hannah  More's  writings.  The  number  of  pupils  was 
upwards  of  fifty,  more  than  one-half  of  whom  were  board- 
ers  in    the   house.       Mrs.    Brown    was   a  noble   woman, 


24  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

who  kept  a  close  watch  upon  the  welfare  of  the  inmates. 
Grace  was  said  at  every  meal  ;  and,  although  there  was 
occasionally  a  little  disorderly  conduct,  the  establishment 
was,  in  the  main,  conducted  with  the  greatest  propriety 
and  decorum.  On  the  Sabbath  every  boy  was  expected 
to  attend  church,  and  Dr.  Brown's  prayers  and  sermons 
were  often  fatiguingly  long  and  uninteresting. 

It  was  towards  the  close  of  the  session — if  I  mistake  not, 
on  the  24th  of  September,  1824 — that  General  Lafayette, 
the  nation's  guest,  passed  through  Trenton  on  his  way 
from  New  York  to  Philadelphia.  The  whole  country,  far 
and  near,  was  in  a  state  of  ferment  to  behold  the  illustrious 
patriot,  the  companion  of  Washington,  and  the  friend  of 
America,  and  an  immense  concourse  of  people  assembled 
on  the  hill  back  of  Trenton  to  bid  him  welcome.  The 
crowd  had  waited  from  early  morning  until  late  in  the 
afternoon,  when,  at  length,  the  "  conquering  hero"  came, 
seated  in  a  carriage  drawn  by  four  white  horses,  ' '  the  ob- 
serv^ed  of  all  observers."  The  welkin  rang  with  shouts 
and  huzzas,  handkerchiefs  were  waved,  hats  were  thrown 
into  the  air,  cannons  boomed,  and  bands  discoursed  sweet 
music  of  welcome.  The  veteran  bowed  in  every  direction, 
evidently  delighted  with  what  was  passing  around  him,  as 
indeed  he  might  well  have  been.  On  alighting  from  his 
carriage,  he  was  conducted  into  the  State  House,  where, 
after  an  address  of  welcome  by — if  I  mistake  not — the 
Governor  of  New  Jersey,  he  had  a  public  reception,  fol- 
lowed by  a  magnificent  ball  in  the  evening.  The  next  day, 
being  Sunday,  he  attended  divine  service,  and  on  Monday 
morning  left  for  Philadelphia.  Lafayette  was  dressed  in 
plain  citizen's  clothes,  and  had  a  very  ruddy  face,  with  a 
remarkably  prominent  nose. 

Lawrenceville  is  situated  nearly  midway  between  Tren- 
ton and  Princeton,  at  what  was  formerly  known  as  Maid- 
enhead, the  scene  of  a  rough  skirmish  between  a  portion 
of  the  British  and  American  forces  during  the  war  of  the 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  35 

Revolution.  During  my  attendance  at  its  High  School 
there  were  but  few  houses,  with  a  church  and  a  graveyard, 
and  no  tavern  or  blacksmith  shop,  those  important  requi- 
sites of  a  country--  village  !  There  were  some  good  dwell- 
ings in  the  neighborhood,  among  others  a  very  large  one 
occupied  by  a  Mr.  Green,  whose  son,  Henry  Woodhull 
Green,  afterwards  became  Chief  Justice  and  finally  Chan- 
cellor of  the  State  of  New  Jersey.  I  revisited  Lawrence- 
ville  for  the  first  and  only  time  since  my  school-days  im- 
mediately before  the  war,  as  an  invited  guest  at  the  semi- 
centennial celebration  of  its  High  School,  then,  as  since, 
under  the  charge  of  the  brothers  Hamill.  My  old  teacher 
was  present,  but  he  had  retired  from  the  school,  and  was 
living  near  Trenton,  where,  about  eighteen  months  later, 
he  was  gathered  to  his  fathers.  Dr.  Brown  was  of  Hugue- 
not descent,  a  sincere  Christian  and  a  good  man,  a  little 
too  fond  of  the  birch  ;  for  he  would  occasionally  flog  some 
of  the  younger  boys  most  unmercifully,  especially  one  of 
his  nephews,  who,  excepting  that  he  was  somewhat  mis- 
chievous, seemed  to  me  to  be  quite  as  good  and  well-be- 
haved as  any  of  his  fellow-students. 

It  will  thus  be  perceived  that  my  education  was  a  desul- 
tory one,  and  yet  I  certainly  acquired  much  valuable 
knowledge  for  future  service.  The  manner  in  which  I 
pursued  my  education  was  not  a  matter  of  choice  with 
me.  It  grew  out  of  the  circumstances  in  which  I  was 
placed.  My  guardians  did  all  they  could  to  thwart  my 
efforts,  and  often  failed  to  supply  me  with  money  to  pay 
my  board  and  tuition,  thus  subjecting  me  not  only  to 
great  chagrin,  but  to  the  loss  of  valuable  time  and  unjust 
expense.  I  should  have  fared  much  better — infinitely 
better  in  ever>'  respect — if,  as  was  my  wish,  I  could  have 
pursued  my  studies  uninterruptedly  at  one  institution, 
as,  for  example,  the  grand  old  academy  at  Wilkesbarre. 
My  patrimony  was  ample,  and  would  have  lasted  longer 
if  it  had  been  properly  applied. 
1—4 


CHAPTER    II. 

CHOICE  OF  PROFESSION — STUDY  MEDICINE — STUDY  FRENCH — HEALTH  FAILS — 
VISIT  NIAGARA  FALLS — ENTER  JEFFERSON  MEDICAL  COLLEGE — LOVE  OF  ANAT- 
OMY— FACULTY  OF  THE  COLLEGE — GRADUATION — OPEN  AN  OFFICE — ^TRANS- 
LATIONS  OF   FRENCH  WORKS — PRACTICE — JOHN  D.  GODMAN — SEARS  C.  WALKER 

INCOME MARRIAGE  —  RETURN     TO    EASTON DISSECTIONS EXPERIMENTAL 

INQUIRIES GOETTER    TRIAL — JAMES    MADISON    PORTER ANDREW    REEDER 

MEDICAL    PROFESSION ASIATIC   CHOLERA. 

The  choice  of  a  profession  is  one  of  tlie  greatest  per- 
plexities of  a  young  man's  life.  No  one,  perhaps,  ever 
experienced  this  in  a  greater  degree  than  Nathaniel 
Hawthorne,  Originally  inclined  to  lead  a  seafaring  life, 
he  wrote  to  his  mother  that  he  did  not  want  to  be  a 
doctor,  and  live  by  men's  diseases ;  or  a  minister,  or  a 
lawy^er  ;  and  he  concluded  that  there  was  nothing  left  for 
him  but  to  be  an  author.  No  such  difficulty  presented 
itself  to  me.  If  I  was  not  bom  a  doctor,  I  was  detennined 
from  my  earliest  boyhood  to  study  medicine ;  and,  although 
I  have  sometimes  thought  that  I  had  mistaken  my  calling, 
I  am  not  sure  that  I  have  not  done  well  in  being  a  doctor, 
and  living  by  men's  diseases.  The  author  of  The 
Scarlet  Letter,  the  Twice-Told  Tales,  and  The  House 
of  the  Seven  Gables  did  far  more  for  his  own  reputation 
and  for  the  glory  of  America  as  an  author  than  he  ever 
could  have  done  as  a  sea-captain,  a  position  which  he  so 
much  coveted  in  his  youth.  It  is  said  of  Physick  that, 
in  his  early  professional  life,  he  constantly  expressed  his 
regret  that  he  had  not  adopted  his  father's  occupation — 
that  of  a  jeweller.  Sir  Astley  Cooper,  the  great  London 
26 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  SAMUEL  D.  GROSS,  M.D.     27 

surgeon,  was  induced  to  take  up  the  profession  by  see- 
ing IMr.  Donne,  of  the  Norfolk  and  Norwich  Hospital, 
perform  an  operation — probably  lithotomy — in  a  "mas- 
terly manner;"  and  Nathan  Smith,  one  of  America's 
great  physicians  and  surgeons,  had  his  mind  first  directed 
to  the  study  of  medicine  by  witnessing  an  operation  in 
the  hands  of  Dr.  Goodhue,  who  became  afterwards  his 
preceptor. 

I  was  nineteen  years  of  age  when  I  commenced  in 
earnest  the  study  of  medicine.  My  preceptor  w^as  Dr. 
Joseph  K.  Swift,  of  Easton,  a  graduate  of  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania,  and  a  practitioner  of  some  note,  with 
considerable  pretension  to  scientific  knowledge,  and  a 
deadly  hatred  of  quackery.  The  understanding  was  that 
I  was  to  remain  under  his  tuition  for  three  years,  in- 
clusive of  two  lecture  terms,  and  that  he  was  to  receive, 
as  an  office  fee,  two  hundred  dollars,  for  which  he 
was  to  furnish  me  with  the  use  of  certain  books,  and  to 
examine  me  once  a  week  on  such  branches  as  I  might  be 
studying.  His  library  was  small,  and  its  contents  of  little 
value.  He  had  no  apparatus  of  any  kind,  plates  or  dia- 
grams, no  specimens  in  materia  medica,  or  anatomical  prep- 
arations ;  nothing,  in  short,  but  a  skeleton,  and  this,  with 
the  aid  of  Wistar's  Anatomy,  was  the  first  thing  I  set  about 
to  master.  In  less  than  two  months  I  had  accomplished 
my  object ;  I  knew  pretty  well  every  foramen,  prominence, 
and  suture,  and  was  complimented  upon  my  progress.  I 
then  went  to  the  ligaments  and  muscles,  and  at  length  to 
the  viscera,  and  of  course  learned  but  little.  From  anat- 
omy I  went  to  surgery,  then  to  materia  medica,  and  finally 
to  midwifery  and  the  practice  of  medicine.  The  works  on 
these  subjects  that  were  put  into  my  hands  were  Dorsey's 
Elements  of  Surgery,  Chapman's  Materia  Medica  and 
Therapeutics,  Burns' s  Midwifery,  edited  by  James,  and 
Thomas's  Practice,  edited  by  Hosack.  Chemistry  I  did 
not  study,  being  told  that  it  could  not  be  learned  out  of  the 


28  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

lecture-room  without  the  aid  of  experiments,  and  no  asser- 
tion, I  am  sure,  is  more  true.  I  was  generally  examined  on 
Saturday,  and  it  is  due  to  preceptor  and  pupil  to  say  that 
they  were  always  punctually  at  their  post.  From  an  hour 
to  an  hour  and  a  half  was  usually  consumed  in  this  way ; 
the  book  which  I  was  engaged  in  reading  being  always 
spread  out  on  the  table  before  my  ' '  master. ' '  I  need  not 
say  that  this  was  a  dry  and  unprofitable  mode  of  studying 
medicine ;  it  was  acquiring  knowledge  under  difficulties ; 
it  was  a  waste  of  precious  time ;  and  I  was  therefore  glad 
when  the  period  arrived  for  attending  lectures.  I  was 
eager  for  a  new  field,  where  I  might  obtain  some  substan- 
tial information,  and  some  remuneration  for  my  pains.  I 
had  all  along  felt  that,  like  Sisyphus,  I  was  engaged 
in  rolling  stones  up  hill,  and  doing  myself  no  good  be- 
yond the  slight  reputation  I  gained  as  a  devoted  student. 
Besides,  I  had  seen  no  practice ;  my  preceptor  was  not 
popular,  and  few  of  his  patients  could  be  visited  by  an 
"unfledged  doctor."  Swift,  I  am  sure,  took  an  interest  in 
me  ;  but  it  soon  became  apparent  to  me  that  such  instruc- 
tion as  I  was  receiving  from  him  had  little  value,  and  fell 
far  short  of  what  a  student  had  a  right  to  expect  from  his 
preceptor.  Perhaps,  however,  this  was  not  his  fault,  but 
the  fault  of  the  vicious  system  of  office  pupilage,  still  prev- 
alent in  nearly  all  sections  of  this  country,  a  system  which 
cannot  be  too  pointedly  condemned,  and  concerning  which 
I  shall  have  more  to  say. 

Knowing  how  important  it  was  for  a  physician,  ambitious 
to  excel  in  his  profession,  to  have  some  knowledge  of  the 
French  language,  I  took  private  lessons  from  an  English 
lady,  then  a  resident  of  Easton,  and  in  a  few  months  had 
made  such  progress  as  to  enable  me  to  read  pretty  fluently 
any  ordinary  work.  The  time  thus  spent  was  not  allowed 
to  interfere  with  my  medical  studies.  This  was  an  agreeable 
pursuit,  which,  while  it  served  to  strengthen  my  memory, 
assisted  me  in  laying  up  valuable  information  for  future 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  29 

use.  Wanostrocht's  Grammar,  Boyer's  Dictionar}-,  a 
phrase  book,  and  the  Life  of  Charles  XII.  of  Sweden  by- 
Voltaire,  constituted  my  chief  armamentarium  for  this 
kind  of  work.  I  made  attempts  to  speak  the  language,  but 
I  never  could  get  my  tongue  to  take  kindly  to  it.  For 
the  sake  of  its  admirable  medical  literature,  I  would 
strongly  advise  all  medical  students  to  study  French. 

During  my  pupilage  at  Easton  I  became  interested  in 
the  study  of  mineralogy,  having  imbibed  a  taste  for  it  from 
Dr.  Swift,  who  had  a  choice  collection  of  minerals,  to 
which  he  was  constantly  adding  by  way  of  exchanges.  He 
had  had  the  first  gatherings  at  Wolf 's  quarry,  as  it  was  called, 
two  miles  above  Easton,  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Delaware, 
one  of  the  finest  localities  of  the  serpentine  minerals  in  the 
countr>^,  and  one  of  the  few  where  cry'stals  of  serpentine 
have  been  found.  At  this  quarry  and  in  its  vicinity  many 
of  my  happiest  hours  were  spent.  iVIy  custom  was,  during 
the  summer  months,  after  getting  through  with  my  medi- 
cal studies,  to  spend  a  few  hours  in  the  afternoon  at  least 
once,  and  often  twice,  a  week,  in  search  of  specimens,  and 
when  I  left  Easton  I  had  accumulated  a  beautiful  collec- 
tion, enriched  by  domestic  and  foreign  exchanges,  amount- 
ing to  upwards  of  two  thousand  specimens.  Among  those 
with  whom  I  corresponded  at  this  period  for  improving  my 
collection  were  Professor  Silliman,  of  New  Haven,  Major 
Delafield,  of  West  Point,  and  Dr.  Darlington,  of  West 
Chester,  Pennsylvania. 

I  had  studied  medicine  nearly  one  year  when  my  health 
broke  down.  I  became  very  weak,  my  appetite  gave 
way,  and  my  nerv^ous  system  was  thoroughly  wrecked. 
Sleep  forsook  my  pillow,  and  I  was  harassed  by  horrid 
dreams.  I  kept  a  light  burning  all  night  in  my  room  lest 
I. should  die  in  the  dark.  On  one  occasion  I  dreamed  that 
my  grave  was  being  dug  ;  I  saw  people  at  work  throwing 
up  the  earth  and  getting  ready  to  deposit  all  that  was 
mortal   of  me.      I   awoke   suddenly,  jumped   up  hastily, 


30  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

raised  the  nearly  exhausted  wick  of  my  lamp,  and,  in  a 
deep  perspiration,  gradually  regained  my  self-possession. 
It  was  a  fearful  moment,  one  which  I  shall  never  forget. 
Any  unexpected  news  greatly  alarmed  me.  The  ringing 
of  the  town  bell  for  a  funeral  was  most  fearful  to  me. 
As  to  studying,  that  was  impossible.  Every  effort  of  the 
kind  only  served  to  worry  and  to  distress  me.  There  was 
then  no  chloral,  no  bromide  of  potassium  to  assuage  my 
suffering.  Fortunately  I  was  the  owner  of  an  excellent 
saddle-horse,  and  as  soon  as  spring  fairly  opened  I  started 
for  Niagara,  in  company  with  a  brother,  a  distance  of 
three  hundred  and  fifty  miles.  We  made,  on  an  average, 
from  twenty-five  to  thirty  miles  a  day,  resting  occasionally 
a  day  or  so,  as  was  found  necessary  for  comfort.  Much 
of  the  country  through  which  we  passed  was  in  a  wild, 
uncultivated  state.  Rochester,  as  I  well  recollect,  was 
bristling  with  the  stumps  of  recently  felled  trees ;  the 
roads  were  indifferent,  and  few  travellers  were  to  be  seen 
anywhere.  The  most  fashionable  hotels  in  the  larger  towns 
through  which  we  passed  were  known  as  the  Eagle  Hotels, 
generally  provided  with  excellent  accommodations  at  rea- 
sonable charges.  At  Buffalo,  which  was  then  already  a 
city  of  great  importance,  we  saw  some  of  Red  Jacket's 
men,  magnificent  specimens  of  Indians — tall,  handsome, 
and  straight  as  arrows.  Some  of  them  were  idling  or 
lounging  about ;  others  were  engaged  in  drawing  up  logs 
from  the  shore  of  Lake  Erie.  We  did  not  visit  the  chief's 
reservation.  During  our  stay  I  made  the  acquaintance  of 
a  pleasant  gentleman,  Dr.  Stagg,  a  rising  physician,  who 
had  a  fine  collection  of  dog-tooth  spar  and  other  speci- 
mens of  the  famous  Lockport  minerals,  and  who,  on 
taking  leave  of  us,  kindly  gave  me  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion to  his  old  preceptor,  the  celebrated  Dr.  Samuel  Latham 
Mitchill,  of  New  York. 

We  reached  the  Falls  of  Niagara  in  about  sixteen  days, 
saw  all  the  objects  of  interest  in  a  state  of  virgin  purity,  not, 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  31 

as  now,  defiled  by  art  and  bad  taste,  and  then  turned  our 
faces  homeward.  Ten  miles  from  the  Falls  we  stopped  at 
a  village  inhabited  by  the  remnant  of  dirty,  squalid 
Tuscarora  Indians,  now  almost  extinct.  Here  we  saw 
no  men  at  all  comparable  to  those  w^e  had  met  with 
at  Buffalo.  They  belonged  entirely  to  a  different  set  of 
beings.  The  women  were  decidedly  ugly,  and  the  chil- 
dren dull  and  heavy-looking.  Much  of  the  road  along 
which  we  travelled  was  skirted  by  the  Erie  Canal,  alive 
with  boats,  freighted  with  the  produce  of  the  rich  country 
through  which,  like  a  snake,  it  meandered.  The  Mohawk 
Valley,  so  beautiful  and  fertile,  and  even  then  so  highly 
cultivated,  interested  us  very  much.  At  Albany,  after  a 
rest  of  a  few  days,  we  sent  our  jaded  horses  on  flats  down 
the  Hudson,  while  we  ourselves  took  passage  on  one  of  the 
New  York  steamers.  Altogether  I  was  absent  six  weeks  ; 
all  my  nervous  symptoms  had  disappeared,  my  digestive 
organs  were  in  excellent  condition,  my  sleep  was  never 
better,  and  my  brain  was  again  in  working  order  ;  in  a 
word,  my  health,  previously  so  undermined,  was  com- 
pletely restored.  I  had  simply  been  overworked  and 
overdrugged,  and  the  horseback  exercise,  with  the  ex- 
hilarating influence  of  change  of  air,  food,  and  scene, 
did  the  work  of  restoration.  I  regard  exercise  on  horse- 
back as  the  most  salutary  exercise  an  invalid  can  take. 
Exercise  in  an  open  carriage  is  also  very  good,  while  riding 
in  a  railway  car  is  worrying  and  fatiguing,  only  fit  for 
robust  people. 

Thomas  Sydenham,  that  great  obser\'er  of  nature — the 
English  Hippocrates,  as  he  is  often  called — was  fully 
aware  of  the  beneficial  effects  of  horseback  exercise. 
Having  charge  of  a  patient  whom  nobody  had  been  able  to 
cure,  he  told  him  one  day  that  there  was  a  physician,  a 
Dr.  Roberts,  at  Inverness,  Scotland,  who  was  famous  for  his 
treatment  of  dyspeptic  and  nervous  disorders,  and  strongly 
advised  his  patient  to  visit  him.     The  distance  was  con- 


32  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

siderable,  but  that  need  not  discourage  him,  as  all  he 
required  was  a  good  horse.  As  he  rode  along  his  health 
rapidly  improved  ;  but  on  reaching  Inverness,  and  inquir- 
ing for  Dr.  Roberts,  he  was  greatly  mortified  to  find  that 
there  was  no  such  man  in  the  town.  Determined  to  seek 
redress,  he  rode  back  as  he  came,  and  called  Sydenham 
to  account  for  what  he  had  considered  a  great  insult. 
"How  is  your  health?"  inquired  the  great  man.  "My 
health  is  excellent,"  was  the  answer;  "but  you  told  me 
an  untruth,  and  I  want  an  explanation."  "  I  knew,"  was 
the  reply,  "that  there  was  no  such  physician  as  Dr.  Roberts 
at  Inverness,  but  I  also  knew  that,  buoyed  up  with  hope, 
the  journey  at  this  genial  season  of  the  year  would  cure 
you  of  your  maladies. ' ' 

Swift  was  anxious  that  I  should  attend  lectures  in  the 
University  of  Pennsylvania,  his  Alma  Mater,  and  accord- 
ingly gave  me  letters  to  Professors  Dewees  and  Horner, 
the  former  of  whom  was  a  relative  by  marriage  of  Mrs. 
Swift.  I  had,  however,  heard  so  much  of  the  brilliant 
achievements  of  Dr.  George  McClellan,  Professor  of  Sur- 
gery in  the  Jefferson  Medical  College,  then  recently  founded, 
that  I  made  up  my  mind  to  disregard  his  wishes  and 
to  matriculate  in  the  "new  school,"  as  it  was  called.  I 
therefore  did  not  deliver  Swift's  letters.  I  became  at  the 
same  time  a  private  pupil  of  McClellan,  and  never  re- 
entered Swift's  ofiice,  although  I  had  paid  him  his  full 
fee  when  I  left  Easton.     This,  I  believe,  gave  offence. 

I  arrived  in  Philadelphia  in  October,  1826,  several  weeks 
before  the  commencement  of  the  session,  and  at  once 
entered  the  dissecting-rooms,  spending  most  of  my  time 
in  the  study  of  practical  anatomy.  Revolting  as  the  sight 
and  odor  were  to  me  during  the  first  few  days,  I  soon 
became  passionately  fond  of  dissections,  and  henceforth 
made  practical  anatomy  a  special  study.  I  seldom  retired 
during  the  first  half  of  the  session  of  the  college  before 
late   at   night.      In   the   autumn  I   spent  a  month   upon 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  33 

this  study  during  tlie  day,  before  the  opening  of  the 
regular  lectures,  and  in  the  spring  I  did  the  same,  after 
the  session  had  terminated.  I  thus  became  a  fair  prac- 
tical anatomist.  I  was  particularly  fond  of  surgical  and 
visceral  anatomy.  I  shall  never  forget  the  deep  inter- 
est I  felt  in  the  structure  of  the  brain  and  in  the  origin  and 
distribution  of  the  nerves,  especially  the  great  sympathetic, 
phrenic,  and  pneumogastric.  The  discoveries  by  Magendie 
and  Sir  Charles  Bell  of  the  functions  of  the  nerv^es  of  mo- 
tion and  sensation  at  that  time  profoundly  interested  pro- 
fessional men,  and  enlisted  the  attention  alike  of  teacher 
and  pupil.  McClellan  was  an  enthusiast,  and  I  was  not 
long  in  sharing  his  feelings. 

The  Faculty  of  the  school  consisted  of  McClellan,  Pro- 
fessor of  Surgery  ;  N.  R.  Smith,  Anatomy  ;  John  Eberle, 
Practice  of  Medicine  ;  William  P.  C.  Barton,  Materia  Med- 
ica  ;  Jacob  Green,  Chemistr}^  ;  John  Barnes,  Obstetrics,  and 
Benjamin  Rush  Rhees,  Institutes  of  Medicine  and  Medical 
Jurisprudence.  Before  the  opening  of  my  second  course 
Smith  was  called  to  the  chair  of  Anatomy  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Maryland,  Baltimore,  in  which  he  continued  for  about 
two  }-ears.  He  then  succeeded  Dr.  Davidge  in  the  chair 
of  Surgery,  which  he  occupied  until  1869,  having  in  the 
meantime  earned  a  world-wide  reputation  as  a  surgeon  and 
teacher,  and  enjoyed  an  immense  practice.  In  the  following 
spring  Barnes  was  replaced  by  Eberle,  who  now  taught 
both  medicine  and  midwifery  ;  and  McClellan  lectured  both 
on  anatomy  and  surgery.  The  Faculty  consequently  con- 
sisted of  five  members  only  during  my  second  term. 
McClellan  was  the  master  genius  of  the  establishment,  a 
fluent  and  popular  lecturer,  full  of  energ}'  and  enthusiasm, 
but  utterly  without  system.  Every  student  was  warmly 
attached  to  him,  and  "Mac"  was  the  name  by  which 
he  was  generally  designated.  As  an  operator,  he  was 
showy,  and  at  times  brilliant,  yet  he  lacked  the  im- 
portant requisites  of  a  great  surgeon — judgment  and 
1—5 


34  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

patience.  He  frequently  jumped  at  conclusions,  and  was 
therefore  often  at  fault  in  his  diagnosis.  He  was  the 
founder  of  the  college,  and  for  a  number  of  years  its  great 
pillar.  A  native  of  Norwich,  Connecticut,  and  a  graduate 
of  Yale  College,  he  came  to  Philadelphia  in  1817,  was  a 
pupil  of  Dr.  John  Syng  Dorsey  up  to  the  time  of  that 
gentleman's  death,  and  took  his  degree  in  1819  in  the 
University  of  Penns}dvania.  He  soon  acquired  practice, 
married  an  amiable  and  accomplished  lady  in  1821,  and 
in  1824  obtained  a  charter  from  the  Legislature  of  Penn- 
sylvania for  the  Jefferson  IMedical  College.  He  died  in 
1847,  ^^  t^^  fifty-first  year  of  his  age,  after  a  brief  illness, 
of  perforation  of  the  bowel.  At  the  time  of  his  death 
the  Collins  Printing  House  had  in  hand  a  portion  of  the 
manuscript  of  a  work  entitled  The  Principles  and  Practice 
of  Surger}^,  a  small  volume,  issued  as  a  posthumous  pro- 
duction under  the  supervision  of  his  son,  the  late  Dr.  John 
H.  B.  McClellan.  The  work  proved  to  be  a  failure,  both 
in  a  commercial  and  professional  point  of  view.  The 
best  things  in  it  are  its  cases,  most  of  which  are  por- 
trayed by  the  hand  of  a  master.  Early  in  life  he  wrote 
some  good  reviews,  particularly  one  of  Baron  Larrey's 
Surgical  Memoirs  of  Napoleon's  Campaigns. 

Next  to  McClellan  the  most  prominent  man  in  the  school 
was  Dr.  John  Eberle,  the  Professor  of  ]\Iedicine,  a  short, 
dark-visaged  man,  of  German  descent,  a  native  of  Lancaster 
County,  Pennsylvania.  He  was  a  bookworm,  but  an  indif- 
ferent lecturer.  Still  he  was  a  good  writer,  and  well  versed 
in  medical  lore.  His  lectures  were  written  out  in  full,  and 
read  with  little  animation  or  variation  of  tone.  He  was 
an  instructive  teacher.  His  great  fault  was  his  citation  of 
authorities,  and  his  want  of  confidence  in  the  statement  of 
his  own  views,  A  teacher  should  be  bold  and  decided  in 
his  opinions  ;  not  too  positive,  but  sufficiently  so  to 
be  authoritative.  The  student  cannot  judge  for  himself. 
The  knowledge  that  is  placed  before  him  must  be,  so  to 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  35 

speak,  well  digested  for  liim,  otherwise  it  will  stagger  and 
bewilder,  not  instruct  him.  Eberle  was  a  good  writer. 
His  work  on  IMateria  Medica  and  his  Practice  of  ^Medicine, 
published  before  he  was  forty-five  years  of  age,  were  able 
productions,  which  passed  through  a  number  of  editions, 
were  widely  used  as  text-books,  and  gave  him  an  extensive 
reputation.  The  Materia  ]\Iedica  received  the  compliment 
of  a  German  translation  at  Weimar.  Later  in  life  he  pub- 
lished an  excellent  work  on  the  Diseases  and  Physical 
Education  of  Children.  In  1831  he  was  enticed  away 
from  Philadelphia  to  the  Medical  College  of  Ohio,  at  Cin- 
cinnati, where  for  several  years  he  occupied  the  chair  of 
IMedicine.  He  finally  removed  to  Lexington,  Kentuckv, 
and  became  professor  of  that  branch  in  the  medical  depart- 
ment of  Transylvania  University.  He  had  made  a  false 
step  in  leaving  Philadelphia,  where  he  had  some  friends 
and  some  practice ;  and,  although  he  received  a  guarantee 
in  Kentucky  of  three  thousand  dollars  a  year,  he  did  not 
improve  his  pecuniary-  condition  materially  by  the  change. 
He  had  experienced  numerous  disappointments,  had  but 
little  practice,  and  was  pretty  well  exhausted  physically 
and  mentally  by  the  long-continued  use  of  opium,  tobacco, 
and  porter.  His  career  at  Lexington  was  brief.  He  had 
hardly  entered  upon  his  professional  duties  when  he  was 
seized  with  the  illness  which  in  a  few  weeks  destroyed  his 
life,  leaving  his  family  helpless,  and,  in  a  great  degree, 
destitute.  He  died  Febniar\^,  1838,  in  the  fifty-first  year 
of  his  age. 

Eberle  edited  for  a  number  of  years  the  American  Medi- 
cal Recorder.  He  afterwards  became  editor  of  the  Ameri- 
can IMedical  Review,  a  journal  issued  jointly  at  first  by 
himself  and  by  George  McClellan,  and  subsequently  by 
Eberle,  McClellan,  Nathan  Smith,  of  New  Haven,  and 
N.  R.  Smith,  of  Philadelphia.  He  contributed  liberally 
to  the  periodical  press,  and  was  one  of  the  most  able  and 
caustic  medical  reviewers  the  country  has  ever  produced. 


36  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

His  faults  as  a  physician  and  a  man  were  timidity  and 
indecision.  He  was  an  indifferent  practitioner  except  in 
chronic  diseases,  with  the  nature  and  treatment  of  which 
he  seemed  to  me  to  be  well  acquainted.  The  American 
Medical  Review  was  begun  in  1824,  ^'^^  was  suspended 
in  1826,  at  the  close  of  the  third  volume,  probably  for  the 
want  of  patronage. 

Our  chemist  was  an  old  bachelor,  a  simple-minded  man, 
not  deeply  versed  in  the  science  which  he  professed,  but  an 
agreeable  and  instructive  lecturer,  with  a  good  deal  of 
sophomoric  flourish,  and  a  mild,  gentlemanly  address.  Al- 
together a  worse  man  than  "Old  Jacky  Green,"  as  he  was 
familiarly  called  by  the  students,  might  have  occupied  his 
chair. 

Barnes,  the  obstetrician,  held  his  position  only  one  ses- 
sion. Having  been  weighed  in  the  balance  and  found 
wanting,  he  was  placed  on  the  retired  list.  He  was  the 
dullest  lecturer  that  it  was  my  lot  ever  to  hear,  destitute 
of  all  the  attributes  of  a  successful  teacher. 

William  P.  C.  Barton  was  a  surgeon  in  the  navy,  and 
one  of  the  best  botanists  of  his  day  in  this  country.  He 
distinguished  himself  in  early  life  by  his  beautiful  work, 
in  two  volumes,  on  the  Medical  Botany  of  the  United 
States.  He  was  withal  a  good  lecturer,  of  the  conversa- 
tional order,  and  an  instructive  teacher,  thoroughly  familiar 
with  his  subject.  In  his  dress  he  was  very  particular,  and 
in  his  temper  a  bitter  man.  During  his  lectures  he  often 
indulged  in  caustic  criticism  at  the  expense  of  a  member 
of  his  class,  who  failed  to  answer  his  questions.  Zooks, 
a  middle-aged  man  from  Western  Pennsylvania,  was  the 
special  object  of  the  shafts  of  his  sarcasm,  much,  I  am  sorry 
to  add,  to  the  merriment  of  Zooks' s  fellow-students.  Not- 
withstanding his  oddities,  I  was  fond  of  Barton,  and  during 
the  latter  years  of  his  life  a  very  pleasant  correspondence 
passed  between  us.  He  was  for  several  years  Chief  of 
the  Bureau  of  Medicine   and  Surger>'  of  the  Navy,   and 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  37 

was  a  man  of  marked  ability.  His  dislike  for  Chapman 
was  invincible.  He  never  let  an  occasion  slip  without 
giving  him  a  dig  under  the  fifth  rib.  One  of  his  esti- 
mable daughters  became  the  wife  of  ex-Judge  F.  Carroll 
Brewster,  the  distinguished  jurist. 

Benjamin  Rush  Rhees  was  a  "dapper  little  fellow," 
with  an  amiable  disposition  and  a  good  deal  of  pomposity 
about  him.  He  always  read  his  lectures,  but,  as  he  had  a 
good  voice  and  an  enthusiastic  manner,  he  was  an  accept- 
able though  not  an  instructive  teacher.  He  died  young, 
and  left  behind  him  no  works  to  perpetuate  his  name.  His 
whole  life  had  been  a  series  of  struggles.  He  was  a  gradu- 
ate of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  and  took  an  active 
part  in  the  establishment  of  the  Jefferson  Medical  College, 
in  which  he  was  the  first  Professor  of  the  Institutes  of 
Medicine  and  IMedical  Jurisprudence.  He  was  a  super- 
ficial man,  with  few  original  ideas  and  no  adequate  concep- 
tion of  the  importance  of  the  two  branches  which  it  was 
his  business  to  teach.  As  a  man  he  was  popular  and 
highly  respected.  His  lectures  were  largely  copied  from 
Bostock's  Physiology-  and  from  Fonblanque's  and  Beck's 
Medical  Jurisprudence. 

The  school  at  this  time  was  very  unpopular,  and  many 
predictions  were  afloat  that  its  existence  would  be  of  short 
duration.  But  it  went  on  despite  the  opposition  of  its 
enemies ;  its  friends  gradually  increased  in  number  and 
influence,  and  before  it  had  attained  its  silver  wedding  it 
was  one  of  the  most  flourishing  institutions  of  medicine 
in  America.  I  have  recently,  through  the  kindness  of 
Professor  J.  H.  Brinton,  read  an  address  delivered  on  the 
8th  of  March,  1825,  ^Y  Professor  Rhees,  in  which,  in  elo- 
quent tenns,  he  sets  forth  the  objects  of  the  college,  the 
reasons  which  prompted  its  founding,  and  the  detennina- 
tion  of  its  trustees  and  faculty  to  build  up  a  school  which 
should  be  an  honor  alike  to  its  founders,  to  the  profession, 
and  to  the  country.     The  meeting  at  which  this  address 


38  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

was  delivered  was  opened  \vith  prayer  by  the  venerable 
president  of  the  college. 

Such  were  the  men  from  whom  I  imbibed  my  medical 
knowledge  during  the  two  courses  of  lectures  which  I 
attended.  They  were  perhaps,  in  the  main,  as  compe- 
tent instructors  as  any  similar  number  of  teachers  in  the 
schools  of  this  country  at  that  period ;  for,  after  all,  every- 
thing depends  upon  the  student  himself,  his  industry,  his 
habits  of  attention,  his  culture,  and  his  natural  capacity. 
His  knowledge  must  come  chiefly  through  his  own  per- 
sonal exertion.  Lectures,  however  able  or  erudite,  are 
only  aids.  They  never  can  make  a  good  physician  or  a 
great  man  out  of  a  dunce. 

I  studied  hard  during  the  sessions  of  the  college  as  well 
as  during  the  recesses ;  I  was  always  punctually  in  my  seat, 
and  never  missed  a  lecture,  except  during  the  second  win- 
ter, when  I  was  confined  for  two  days  to  my  room  by  an 
attack  of  pleurodynia.  I  worked  early  and  late,  and  lost 
no  occasion  to  profit  by  the  opportunities  that  were  afforded 
me.  I  was  determined  to  qualify  myself  well,  especially 
in  the  practical  branches.  I  was  very  fond  of  anatomy 
and  surger)'^,  and  therefore  made  them  objects  of  particular 
inquir\\  During  the  eighteen  months  of  my  connection 
with  McClellan  I  had  witnessed  many  important  opera- 
tions, and  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  medical  practice.  My 
mind,  too,  was  well  disciplined ;  I  had  not  only  industry, 
but  ambition ;  my  morals  and  habits  were  good,  and  I  was 
a  stranger  to  all  amusements.  Medicine  was  the  goddess 
of  my  idolatr}\  When,  therefore,  the  time  for  my  exami- 
nation arrived  I  had  no  misgivings  in  regard  to  the  result. 
I  had  planted  carefully,  and  believed  that  I  should  ulti- 
mately receive  the  reward  of  my  industry.  The  thirty-five 
minutes  which  I  spent  in  the  ' '  Green  Room' '  of  my  Alma 
Mater  were  amongst  the  happiest  of  my  life,  and  I  could 
not  help  giving  expression  to  my  feelings  in  the  presence 
of  my  assembled  teachers.     Such,  indeed,  was  my  hilarity 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  39 

that  IMcClellan,  my  private  preceptor,  who  knew  me  inti- 
mately, was  induced  to  ask  me  afterguards  "whether  I 
had  not  been  drinking?" — although  he  was  well  aware 
that  I  was  one  of  the  most  temperate  of  youths,  and  as 
sober  as  a  judge  on  the  occasion  in  question.  IMy  exami- 
nation, I  had  reason  to  believe,  gave  entire  satisfaction. 
The  commencement  day  came ;  McClellan  delivered  the 
address  to  the  graduates,  and  I  was  one  of  twenty-seven 
who  received,  at  the  end  of  the  third  session  of  the  college, 
the  honors  of  the  doctorate.  My  thesis,  to  the  composition 
of  which  I  had  devoted  unusual  care  and  labor,  was  on  the 
Nature  and  Treatment  of  Cataract.  I  had  seen  many  cases 
of  this  disorder  during  my  Philadelphia  pupilage.  It  is  a 
subject  which,  during  my  prolonged  professional  life,  has 
deeply  interested  me. 

McClellan,  on  this  as  on  many  other  occasions,  was  not 
on  time.  He  kept  the  audience  waiting  for  at  least  ten 
minutes,  much  to  the  annoyance  of  President  Green,  an 
old  man  ;  and  when,  at  length,  he  made  his  appearance,  he 
could  hardly  read  his  manuscript,  so  badly  was  it  written. 
In  fact,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  he  had  been  engaged  upon 
the  composition  of  his  address  up  to  the  ver>'  moment  of 
leaving  his  house  for  the  college. 

After  a  short  visit  to  my  mother  at  Easton  I  returned  to 
Philadelphia,  which  I  determined  to  make  my  future  resi- 
dence. I  accordingly  took  an  office  at  the  corner  of  Li- 
brary and  Fifth  Streets,  immediately  opposite  Independence 
Square,  and  announced  myself  as  a  candidate  for  business. 

To  spend  my  leisure  to  the  best  advantage,  I  at  once 
began  the  translation  of  a  work  on  General  Anatomy, 
hoping  by  its  publication  not  only  to  acquire  a  little  repu- 
tation, but  to  obtain  means  of  support,  which,  ere  this,  had 
been  quite  exhausted.  Indeed,  I  took  my  office  with  feel- 
ings of  great  doubt  and  misgiving,  not  knowing  whether  it 
would  be  in  my  power  to  pay  my  rent  or  board.  I  knew 
that  business  in  a  city  like   Philadelphia,   crowded  with 


40  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

professional  men  of  great  talent,  influence,  and  experience, 
must  be  slow  of  acquisition,  and  that  I  should  be  most 
fortunate  if  I  could,  for  the  first  three  or  four  years,  keep 
my  head  above  water. 

I  had  determined,  long  before  I  finished  my  course  of 
studies  in  Jefferson  Medical  College,  to  undertake  the  trans- 
lation of  some  French  work  as  soon  as  I  should  receive  my 
degree.  The  one  that  I  had  selected  was  Edwards'  s  Manual 
of  Surgical  Anatomy,  which  I  had  procured  some  time 
previously,  and  which  I  had  read  with  great  care.  A  few 
days  before  I  thought  of  setting  about  my  task,  I  found, 
much  to  my  disappointment,  at  Carey  &  Lea's  store,  a  copy 
of  an  English  edition  of  the  work  from  the  pen  of  Mr. 
Coulson,  of  London.  This  was  soon  after  republished  in 
Philadelphia  with  notes  by  Dr.  James  Webster,  afterwards 
Professor  of  Anatomy  at  Geneva,  New  York.  Thus  was 
my  first  hope  blighted.  While  I  was  in  doubt  what  to  do 
next.  Dr.  Dobson — "Old  Judah"  as  he  was  styled — placed 
in  my  hands  a  book  on  General  Anatomy,  by  Bayle  and 
Hollard,  of  Paris,  just  fresh  from  the  press.  It  was  well 
arranged,  concise,  and  apparently  adapted  to  the  wants 
of  the  profession  in  this  country.  Setting  vigorously  to 
work,  I  finished  my  translation  in  two  months,  which, 
in  view  of  my  imperfect  knowledge  of  the  French  lan- 
guage, my  want  of  intimate  knowledge  of  the  subject — for 
general  anatomy  was  not  then  systematically  taught  in  any 
of  our  schools — and  the  fact  that  I  had  to  travel  over  nearly 
four  hundred  pages,  was,  to  say  the  least,  not  slow  pro- 
gress. An  incident  happened  near  the  completion  of 
this,  my  first,  literary  effort  which  deserves  brief  men- 
tion. Messrs.  Carey  &  Lea,  at  that  time  the  principal 
publishing  house  in  the  city,  had  agreed  to  publish  my 
translation,  and  to  pay  me  two  hundred  dollars  for  it. 
When  the  work  had  sufficiently  progressed  to  be  put  to 
press  I  placed  some  of  the  sheets  in  their  hands,  and 
during   the    conversation   which    ensued    incidentally   re- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,    M.  D.  41 

marked  that  I  should  inscribe  the  translation  to  my  pre- 
ceptor, Dr.  George  McClellan.  This  was  enough.  In  a 
week  the  manuscript  was  returned  to  me  with  a  note  de- 
clining the  publication.  The  real  cause  of  its  rejection 
was  the  fact  that  the  firm  was  friendly  to  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania,  whose  Faculty  were  hostile  to  Dr.  Mc- 
Clellan, the  founder  of  the  Jefferson  Medical  College.  Upon 
stating  the  circumstance  to  him,  McClellan  consulted  Mr. 
John  Grigg,  since  distinguished  as  a  successful  and  enter- 
prising publisher,  who  immediately  committed  the  book  to 
the  press,  on  the  terms  previously  offered  me  by  Carey  & 
Lea.  The  work  formed  an  octavo  volume  of  about  three  hun- 
dred pages,  and  was  well  received  by  the  profession,  having 
been  adopted  as  a  text-book  by  several  of  the  schools. 
I  need  not  say  that  the  translation  was  a  faithful, 
though  not  perhaps  an  elegant  one.  The  edition  num- 
bered two  thousand  copies.  A  new  one  was  never  called 
for,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  subject  had  not  then  attracted 
much  attention,  notwithstanding  that  the  great  work  of 
Bichat  had  been  translated  a  number  of  years  previously 
by  Dr.  Hay  ward,  of  Boston. 

The  work  which  I  next  translated  was  Hatin's  Manual 
of  Obstetrics,  a  small  practical  treatise,  wdiich  I  finished  in 
three  weeks,  and  which  was  also  issued  by  IVIr.  Grigg,  my 
compensation  being  seventy-five  dollars.  An  appendix, 
containing  Magendie's  celebrated  paper  on  the  cephalo- 
spinal  fluid,  translated  by  my  friend  Dr.  Gardner,  a  fellow- 
graduate,  was  added  to  secure  its  sale,  which,  it  was  feared, 
would  be  seriously  injured  by  the  simultaneous  appearance 
of  a  translation  of  the  same  work  by  a  physician  of  New 
York,  I  sent  a  copy  of  this  little  book  immediately  after  its 
publication  with  a  polite  note  to  the  late  Dr.  Dewees,  Pro- 
fessor of  Midwifery  in  the  University  of  Pennsylvania, 
who,  however,  took  no  notice  of  either.  Meeting,  soon 
after,  the  wife  of  my  first  preceptor,  Mrs.  Swift,  Dr.  Dewees 
referred  to  the  subject,  and  he  observed  that  I  might  be 
1—6 


42  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

a  clever  and  promising  young  man,  but  that  the  Faculty 
of  the  University  could  take  no  notice  of  anything  that 
emanated  from  the  Jefferson  School.  I  mention  this  fact 
simply  to  show  the  state  of  feeling  that  existed  at  that 
time  between  the  two  institutions. 

]\Iy  third  translation  was  Hildenbrand  on  Typhus  Fever, 
a  German  work  of  much  celebrity  in  its  day.  The  trans- 
lation was  published  by  Mr.  Bliss,  of  New  York,  in  the 
winter  of  1829.  -^^  was  completed  in  two  months,  and 
cost  me  more  hard  labor  than  both  the  other  works.  My 
remuneration  was  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  dollars. 
I  never  learned  how  the  book  sold,  but  I  fear  that  it  had 
a  limited  circulation,  owing  to  the  want  of  interest  in  the 
subject  on  the  part  of  the  profession. 

Tavernier's  Operative  Surgery  was  my  next  effort.  This 
work  was  comprised  in  two  octavo  volumes  of  nearly  five 
hundred  pages  each,  and  I  rendered  it  into  English  in  less 
than  three  months.  ]\Iy  rule  was  always  to  translate  at 
least  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  pages  a  day,  whatever 
might  be  my  other  engagements,  and  it  was  thus  I  accom- 
plished so  much  in  so  short  a  time.  Mr.  Grigg  issued  the 
book,  and  it  formed  a  handsome  volume  of  four  hundred 
closely  printed  pages.  This  was  the  first  treatise  on  opera- 
tive surgery  ever  published  in  the  United  States.  It  had 
an  extensive  circulation.  The  work,  although  wholly 
a  compilation,  was  well  arranged,  and  is  still  one  of  the 
best  books  on  the  subject.  Mr.  Grigg  paid  me  four  hun- 
dred dollars  for  my  labors. 

Having  disposed  of  these  translations,  the  first  and  last 
of  the  kind  I  ever  attempted,  I  forthwith  commenced  the 
composition  of  an  original  work,  which  was  issued  by 
Mr.  Grigg  in  the  autumn  of  1830  under  the  title  of  The 
Anatomy,  Physiology,  and  Diseases  of  the  Bones  and 
Joints.  This  work  formed  an  octavo  volume  of  nearly 
four  hundred  pages,  and  was  written  in  the  space  of  little 
more  than  three  months.     The  title  was  unfortunate  :  it 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  43 

should  have  been  A  Practical  Treatise  on  Fractures  and 
Dislocations,  with  an  Account  of  the  Diseases  of  the  Bones 
and  Joints,  which  the  profession,  especially  the  younger 
members  of  it,  would  have  better  understood.  The  work 
was  well  received,  and  two  thousand  copies  were  ex- 
hausted in  less  than  four  years.  Notwithstanding  this, 
no  other  edition  was  ever  issued  ;  first,  because  I  had  no 
time  to  bestow  upon  it  the  requisite  attention,  and,  sec- 
ondly, because  I  had  not  the  experience  which  was  ne- 
cessary to  make  the  work  what  it  should  be.  I  need  hardly 
add  that,  young  as  I  was  when  the  book  was  issued,  I  had 
to  depend  for  the  facts  mainly  upon  the  labors  of  others, 
though  in  the  composition  of  it  I  used  my  own  language. 
I  have  often  thought  that  this  work,  if  entirely  rewritten 
and  brought  to  a  level  with  the  existing  state  of  the 
science,  might  be  rendered  useful  to  the  younger  mem- 
bers of  the  profession,  to  whom  the  subjects  of  which  it 
treats  are  a  stumbling-block,  and  who  are  so  often  prose- 
cuted for  malpractice  in  consequence  of  the  mismanage- 
ment of  cases  of  fractures  and  dislocations.  For  this  book 
I  never  received  a  cent  of  remuneration ! 

All  these  works  were  published  in  about  eighteen 
months  after  I  took  my  degree.  The  different  translations 
and  the  book  on  the  Bones  and  Joints  formed  nearly  fifteen 
hundred  pages  octavo.  In  addition  to  this,  I  assisted  the 
late  Dr.  Godman  in  translating  the  Duke  of  Saxe-Weimar's 
Travels  in  the  United  States,  published  soon  afterwards  by 
Carey  &  Lea.  This  work  was  written  in  Gennan,  and  I 
completed  about  two  hundred  pages  of  it  in  less,  I  think, 
than  a  fortnight. 

My  practice  during  this  period  was,  of  course,  limited ; 
I  went  little  into  society  and  took  hardly  any  recreation. 
Depriving  myself  of  pleasure  and  amusement,  I  devoted 
my  time  to  my  task,  thus  literally  verifying  the  saying  of 
the  Roman,  Nulla  dies  sine  linca,  I  labored  day  and 
night  under  the  stimulus  both  of  ambition  and  of  poverty. 


44 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


The  house  in  which  I  had  my  office  was  kept  by  a 
Mrs.  Eaton,  and  was  the  resort  of  many  well-bred  men. 
Among  the  boarders  were  Mrs.  Sparhawk,  a  venerable 
lady,  and  her  daughter.  Miss  Eliza,  who  subsequently 
married  Judge  Joel  Jones,  my  former  private  tutor.  In 
the  list  of  gentlemen  was  a  Mr.  Chester,  a  high-toned 
man,  a  lawyer  by  profession,  long  since  dead  ;  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Brewer,  an  old  retired  clergyman,  the  head  of  a 
young  ladies'  seminary  ;  "Johnny  Vaughan,"  as  he  was 
called,  a  kind-hearted  man,  a  broken-down  merchant,  an 
Englishman  by  birth,  and,  at  the  time  referred  to,  libra- 
rian of  the  American  Philosophical  Society ;  the  Spanish 
consul,  whose  name  I  no  longer  remember  ;  and  Sears 
Cook  Walker,  a  young  man  of  my  own  age.  Dr.  Brown, 
brother  of  our  minister  at  the  court  of  France,  and  the 
first  Professor  of  Medicine  in  Transylvania  University, 
at  Lexington,  Kentucky,  was  for  a  short  time  a  boarder 
in  the  house ;  and,  learning  that  I  was  engaged  in 
translating  a  French  work  on  Anatomy,  he  was  kind 
enough  to  entertain  me  occasionally  with  an  account  of 
the  more  prominent  physicians  of  Paris. 

I  do  not  know  that  I  have  ever  seen  a  more  beauti- 
ful type  of  a  man  than  Dr.  Brown.  He  had  a  large 
head  and  a  magnificent  physique,  and  in  his  manners  and 
address  was  a  thorough  gentleman.  With  a  mind  well 
stored  with  knowledge,  added  to  wealth  and  leisiire,  he 
still  failed  to  achieve  reputation  as  a  teacher,  writer,  or 
practitioner.  Mr.  Vaughan  was  a  great  talker,  and  pos- 
sessed a  large  fund  of  interesting  information.  One  of  his 
habits  was  to  pick  up  an  acquaintance  whenever  he  could 
and  bring  him  to  dinner.  It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions 
that  he  brought  in  Dr.  John  D.  Godman,  the  anatomist, 
naturalist,  and  author,  whom  I  was  happy  to  find  seated 
next  to  myself  at  table.  I  had  heard  much  of  Godman, 
but,  until  now,  had  never  seen  him.  My  feelings  were 
at  once  deeply  interested.     I  saw  before  me  a  thin,  frail, 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  45 

sickly-looking  man,  about  the  medium  height,  with  a 
pallid  face,  black  hair  and  eyes,  long  lashes,  heavy  brow, 
and  a  clear,  sonorous  voice,  interrupted  at  intervals  by 
a  hacking  cough,  only  too  surely  denotive  of  the  exist- 
ence of  the  relentless  disease  which,  ere  long,  consigned 
him  to  an  early  grave.  His  countenance  wore  an  expres- 
sion of  deep  melancholy,  which  it  was  distressing  to  behold. 
In  his  conversation  there  was  nothing  unusual  either  in 
manner  or  matter  ;  it  was  com.monplace.  I  noticed  par- 
ticularly his  dress :  his  coat,  once  black,  was  much  worn, 
and  torn  at  the  elbow  ;  his  hat  was  decidedly  shabby ;  and 
his  shoes  had  evidently  not  been  brushed  that  morning. 
Altogether  the  picture  was  a  sad  one,  so  sad  as  to  make  an 
impression  upon  my  mind  which  has  never  been  effaced. 
Godman  was  poor  all  his  life.  At  the  age  of  tsvo  years  he 
lost  his  mother,  and,  as  we  are  informed  by  one  of  his  biog- 
raphers, he  soon  after  became  fatherless,  friendless,  home- 
less. Poverty  literally  pursued  him  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave.  "I  have,"  he  once  exclaimed  to  a  friend,  "eaten 
the  bread  of  sorrow  and  drunk  the  cup  of  miserv'."  Gifted 
beyond  most  of  his  professional  contemporaries,  he  failed 
in  almost  everything  in  which  he  was  engaged.  With 
great  powers  as  an  anatomical  teacher,  he  attracted  large 
but  unremunerative  classes,  and  the  two  medical  schools 
with  which  he  was  for  a  time  connected  yielded  him  no 
substantial  emoluments.  As  an  operator  he  was  a  failure. 
At  Cincinnati,  in  the  Medical  College  of  Ohio,  in  which 
he  held  for  a  short  time  the  chair  of  Surgery,  he  lithoto- 
mized  a  man,  but  was  unable  to  extract  the  stone.  The 
poor  fellow,  it  is  said,  walked  afterwards  all  the  way  to 
Philadelphia,  where  he  was  relieved  of  his  burden  by  Pro- 
fessor Gibson,  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania.  At  New 
York,  in  Rutgers  Medical  College,  in  which  he  occu- 
pied the  chair  of  Anatomy,  his  health  soon  broke  down, 
and  he  was  obliged  to  seek  recreation  and  renewed  life  in 
the  West  Indies  some  weeks  before  the  close  of  the  first 


46  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

session.  The  school,  in  which  he  had  for  his  colleagues 
such  men  as  Hosack,  Mott,  Francis,  and  IVIacneven,  was 
not  remunerative,  and,  what  was  worse,  its  doors  were 
soon  permanently  closed  by  the  courts  of  New  York  on 
account  of  some  illegality  in  its  charter.  On  his  return 
from  the  West  Indies,  Godman  took  up  his  residence  at 
Germantown,  and  henceforth  devoted  himself  exclusively 
to  literary  pursuits,  which,  however,  afforded  him  and  his 
family  but  a  scanty  subsistence.  For  eighteen  months 
he  performed  daily  an  astonishing  amount  of  work,  breath- 
ing, as  he  did,  all  this  time  with  but  one  lung,  the  other 
having  been  destroyed  by  tubercles.  When  at  length  the 
hour  of  his  departure  arrived  he  was  nothing  but  a  skeleton. 
Such  a  life  was  a  life  of  true  heroism,  of  sublime  self-sacri- 
fice. It  was  during  these  latter  days  that  I  became  more 
intimately  acquainted  with  him,  calling  occasionally  at  his 
residence  and  dining  with  him  several  times  in  town. 
Among  his  last  labors  was  a  translation  of  Levasseur's 
Account  of  Lafayette's  Tour  through  the  United  States, 
and  of  the  Travels  of  the  Duke  of  Saxe-Weimar.  The 
latter  was  a  German  work,  in  which,  as  I  have  before 
said,  I  rendered  him  important  assistance.  He  died  in 
April,  1830,  in  the  thirty-seventh  year  of  his  age. 

Godman  wrote  well  and  constantly.  He  was  a  prolific 
contributor  to  the  medical  press,  was  for  a  while  editor  of 
the  Philadelphia  Journal  of  the  Medical  Sciences,  and  pre- 
pared the  articles  on  Zoology  for  the  Enc}'clopasdia  Ameri- 
cana. His  work  on  American  Natural  History  is  well 
known  ;  and  his  Rambles  of  a  Naturalist  has  had  many 
admirers  on  account  of  the  beauty  and  fascination  of  its 
style.  Notwithstanding  the  deficiencies  of  his  early  educa- 
tion, he  was  an  excellent  linguist,  a  good  scholar,  and  a 
polished  writer.  Annapolis  is  entitled  to  the  honor  of  his 
nativity. 

Of  Mr.  Sears  C.  Walker  I  saw  a  great  deal  while  in  the 
society  of  these  people.     He  was  within  a  few  months  of 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,    M.D.  47 

my  own  age,  somewhat  above  the  middle  height,  with  light 
hair,  eyes,  and  complexion.  He  was  timid  and  reticent, 
eschewing  ladies'  society,  and  keeping  aloof  from  nearly 
all  in  the  house.  He  would,  now  and  then,  enter  my 
office,  but  his  visits  were  always  brief,  and  he  rarely 
seemed  to  be  at  his  ease.  He  was  connected  with  a 
classical  seminar}',  and  spent  all  his  leisure  in  the  study 
of  mathematics,  for  which  he  had  great  fondness.  To  a 
common  observer  he  presented  all  the  characteristics  of  an 
abstractionist — of  a  man  who  lived  within  himself  and  for 
himself  only.  The  social  world  afforded  him  no  enjoy- 
ment ;  he  felt  like  one  who  had  no  time  to  throw  away 
upon  ordinar)^  mortals.  As  he  grew  older,  as  his  mind  be- 
came more  expanded,  he  became  dissatisfied  with  the  rou- 
tine of  a  teacher  in  a  classical  school,  and  panted  for  a 
wider  field.  The  study  of  astronomy  had  long  been  a 
passion  with  him,  and  to  this  he  now  devoted  most  of 
his  time.  His  first  scientific  labor  was  the  construction 
of  a  set  of  parallactic  tables,  in  1834,  adapted  to  the  lati- 
tude of  Philadelphia.  Soon  after,  he  published  in  the 
Memoirs  of  the  American  Philosophical  Society  an  elabo- 
rate series  of  original  observations  on  occultations.  In 
1837  he  prepared  a  plan  for  the  organization  of  the  obser- 
vatory of  the  Philadelphia  High  School ;  and  eight  years 
later  he  took  charge,  at  the  instance  of  ]\Ir.  Bancroft,  then 
vSecretar\'  of  the  Navy,  of  the  obsen^atory  at  Washing- 
ton. From  this  time  on  his  career  was  a  series  of  tri- 
umphs in  astronomical  obser\^ations,  in  coast  surveys,  and 
in  researches  to  determine  the  differences  of  longitude  by 
telegraph  and  other  means.  That  a  brain  so  arduously 
and  incessantly  engaged  in  scientific  investigations  re- 
quiring the  highest  order  of  intellect  should  wear  out  pre- 
maturely is  not  surprising.  In  1851  he  had  a  slight  para- 
lytic seizure,  evidently  due  to  softening  of  the  brain.  As 
he  strenuously  persisted  in  his  labors,  this  was  soon  fol- 
lowed by  mental  alienation,  which  continued  up  to  the 


48  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

time  of  his  death,  in  1853.  Thus  perished,  at  the  early 
age  of  forty-eight,  one  of  the  brightest  intellects  of  the  age, 
an  ardent  devotee  of  science,  and  a  great  mathematician 
and  astronomer.  Walker  was  a  native  of  Wilmington,  a 
sm.all  town  in  Sussex  County,  Llassachusetts.  He  was  bom 
in  1805.  From  my  early  knowledge  of  him,  of  his  remark- 
able diffidence  and  reticence,  and  of  his  retired  habits,  al- 
most amounting  to  solitude,  I  had  no  idea  that  he  would 
live  to  become  so  shining  a  light  in  the  world  of  science. 
He  was  never  married ;  he  had  no  fancy  for  the  society  of 
women.  He  would  much  rather  contemplate  Venus  in  the 
heavens  than  Venus  in  petticoats. 

The  income  from  my  practice  during  the  first  year  did 
not  exceed  three  hundred  dollars,  if,  indeed,  it  reached 
that  sum.  My  patrimony  was  exhausted,  and  I  had,  un- 
fortunately, to  pay  heavy  board  and  office  rent.  Under 
these  circumstances  I  had  no  business  to  marry,  and  yet, 
the  following  winter,  I  did  marry.  Left  a  widow  at  the 
age  of  twenty  with  one  child,  my  wife  was  quite  as  poor 
as  myself.  We  were  greatly  in  love  with  each  other,  and 
as  we  could  not  brook  separation  any  longer  we  con- 
summated an  engagement  which  had  existed  upwards 
of  a  year.  Of  course  we  were  foolish,  very  foolish  ;  but 
how  could  we  help  it?  Poor  people  had  often  married 
before,  and  they  had  contrived  to  live  and  to  thrive,  and 
why  should  not  we  ?  We  economized  as  much  as  we 
could,  but  it  was  up-hill  work  ;  and,  after  a  vain  struggle 
of  eighteen  months,  we  left  the  city,  with  sad  hearts  and 
tearful  eyes,  for  Easton,  where  I  soon  acquired  a  respect- 
able share  of  practice,  the  income  from  which  enabled 
me  to  keep  my  head  above  water,  although,  for  a  while, 
not  without  difficulty.  Gradually,  however,  I  got  into 
good  business,  and  when  I  left,  two  years  and  a  half 
afterwards,  in  October,  1833,  for  Cincinnati,  I  was  gen- 
erally regarded  as  a  scientific  practitioner.  I  soon  made 
myself   known   as    a   hard-working,    industrious   student. 


/<r* 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,    M.  D.  49 

I  spent  all  my  leisure  among  my  books,  and  attended 
with  great  assiduity  alike  the  poor  and  the  rich.  To 
keep  up  and  extend  my  knowledge  of  practical  anatomy, 
I  erected  at  the  foot  of  my  garden,  directly  in  front 
of  a  hotel,  a  little  building  as  a  dissecting-room,  and 
obtained  a  subject  from  Philadelphia,  going  there  myself 
in  a  buggy^  for  the  purpose.  I  dissected  generally  several 
hours  a  day  as  long  as  my  material  lasted,  doing  the  work 
with  great  care  and  neatness,  and  performing  at  the  same 
time  the  more  important  operations  unmolested.  I  ob- 
tained in  this  way  a  great  deal  of  information,  and,  as 
I  was  anxious  to  impress  my  knowledge  thoroughly 
upon  my  mind,  it  was  my  habit  ever>^  evening  to  write 
out  an  account  of  my  daily  examinations.  All  my  leisure 
during  the  summer  months  was  spent  upon  the  compo- 
sition of  a  work  on  Descriptive  Anatomy,  which,  however, 
I  never  entirely  completed.  I  have  still  in  my  possession  the 
manuscript  of  it.  A  few  months  more  would  have  enabled 
me  to  finish  it,  but  other  business  prevented,  and  I  have 
not  been  sorr>'  that  it  was  never  published.  I  am  aware 
of  no  prior  effort  in  the  English  language  to  change  the 
nomenclature  of  anatomy  from  Latin  into  English,  a  plan 
which,  at  my  suggestion,  was  adopted  by  my  pupil. 
Dr.  T.  G.  Richardson,  now  Professor  of  Surgery  in  the 
University  of  Louisiana,  New  Orleans,  in  his  work  on 
Anatomy,  and  subsequently  by  Professor  Leidy,  of  the 
University  of  Pennsylvania,  in  his  text-book  on  Anatomy. 
Among  the  French  and  German  writers  this  peculiarity  of 
nomenclature  has  been  in  use  for  at  least  two  centuries. 

I  had  an  ardent  desire  in  my  professional  youth  to  be- 
come an  experimentalist,  both  with  a  view  of  throwing 
light  upon  certain  obscure  points  in  physiology,  and  of 
earning  some  reputation.  ]\Iy  earliest  inquiries  were 
directed  to  the  investigation  of  the  temperature  and  coag- 
ulation of  the  blood,  topics  which,  although  they  had 
received  considerable  attention,  were  in  need  of  further 

1—7 


50  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

examination.  Hewson  and  Thackara,  of  England,  had 
both  written  upon  the  subject ;  I  had  read  their  works, 
and  noticed  their  defects.  A  large  field  was  spread  out 
before  nie ;  and  if  I  had  not  been  obliged  to  earn  my 
bread  by  my  daily  labor,  which  necessarily  distracted  my 
attention,  I  might  have  earned  substantial  reputation 
in  this  branch  of  study.  As  it  was,  I  worked  hard, 
with  little  benefit.  The  coagulation  of  the  blood  inter- 
ested me  very  much,  and  I  frequently  visited  the  slaughter- 
houses in  Philadelphia  to  examine  this  process  in  the  ox, 
sheep,  and  hog.  Venesection  was  then  a  very  fashion- 
able practice,  and  I  lost  no  opportunity  of  making  ex- 
periments upon  the  temperature  and  coagulation  of  the 
blood  of  the  human  subject  in  health  and  in  disease. 
These  investigations  extended  through  several  years,  and 
resulted  in  some  satisfactory  conclusions,  which,  I  now 
regret,  were  never  published.  I  not  only  verified  the 
observations  of  Hewson  and  Thackara,  but  I  struck  out 
into  imtrodden  paths.  After  I  left  Philadelphia  I  made 
a  series  of  observations  upon  the  temperature  of  venous 
blood — altogether  fifty  in  number — mostly  of  healthy  per- 
sons, and  found  it,  on  an  average,  to  be  96°  of  Fahrenheit, 
the  maximum  being  104°,  and  the  minimum  92°.  In 
books  on  physiology  the  average  temperature  of  the  blood 
is  usually  stated  at  98°,  which,  I  am  sure,  is  entirely  too 
high.  The  results  of  these  observations  were  published  at 
Cincinnati,  in  1835,  in  the  second  volume  of  the  Western 
Medical  Gazette. 

I  noticed  in  these  observations  a  singular  phenomenon, 
then,  if  not  still,  unknown,  that,  if  the  arm  be  tied  firmly 
for  five  or  six  minutes  before  opening  the  vein,  the  tem- 
perature of  the  blood  which  flows  during  the  first  half 
minute  or  so  will  be  several  degrees  lower  than  the  tem- 
perature of  that  which  issues  subsequently.  In  this  ex- 
periment the  blood  necessarily  remains  stationary  in  the 
superficial  veins,   and  its   diminished  temperature  is,   no 


€55 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  51 

doubt,  owing  to  the  want  of  the  friction  which  it  experi- 
ences in  its  circulation,  as  well,  perhaps,  as  to  the  partial 
interruption  of  the  nervous  fluid  caused  by  the  pressure 
of  the  fillet. 

My  next  experiments  were  made  upon  excretion  to 
ascertain  the  rapid  transit  of  certain  articles,  when  taken 
into  the  stomach,  through  the  blood  by  the  kidneys.  For 
this  purpose  I  selected  rabbits,  to  which,  after  having  tied 
both  renal  arteries,  I  administered  protoxide  of  iron.  The 
animals  were  generally  killed  within  fifteen  to  thirty  min- 
utes, and  in  every  instance,  upon  applying  to  the  urine 
in  the  bladder,  ureters,  and  kidneys,  a  solution  of  cyanide 
of  potassium — a  most  delicate  test — well-marked  traces  of 
iron  were  found  in  that  fluid.  My  confreres,  who  remem- 
ber the  doctrine  of  solidism,  so  dominant  in  the  schools  in 
our  younger  days,  will  see  that  these  investigations  were 
not  without  their  significance.  Taken  in  connection  with 
experiments  made  with  other  articles,  they  went  to  show 
how  readily  substances  introduced  into  the  stomach  find 
their  way  into  the  circulation,  to  be  afterwards  eliminated 
by  the  kidneys  and  other  emunctories.  Solidism,  long  since 
exploded,  assumed  that  all  impressions  upon  the  human 
system  in  health  and  disease  were  made  through  the  organs 
and  tissues,  and  that  the  blood  was,  so  to  speak,  a  mere 
passive  fluid,  designed,  to  be  sure,  to  nourish  the  body, 
but  incapable  of  receiving  or  conveying  the  germs  of  dis- 
ease. 

Another  experiment,  which  interested  me  very  much, 
was  one  which  had  been  performed  some  time  pre- 
viously by  Gendrin,  an  eminent  French  pathologist,  who, 
in  1826,  published  a  great  work,  in  two  volumes,  on  in- 
flammation. This  experiment  was  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  the  inoculation  of  a  cat  with  the  virus  of  smallpox, 
taken  from  a  young  man  whom  I  was  then  treating  for  a 
severe  attack  of  this  disgusting  disease.  The  object  was 
to  ascertain  whether,  as  the  French  writer  had  asserted, 


52  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

variola  could  be  produced  iu  this  manner  in  an  inferior 
animal.  I  performed  this  experiment,  not  without  some 
misgivings,  in  my  office,  soon  after  my  marriage,  and  as 
the  cat  was  not  the  most  pliant  of  subjects,  but  disposed  to 
protect  its  rights,  I  had  no  little  difficulty  in  accomplish- 
ing my  purpose.  However,  after  a  good  deal  of  exertion, 
and  some  scratches  imprinted  upon  my  fingers,  I  succeeded 
in  inserting  a  considerable  quantity  of  fresh  virus  in  its 
neck.  The  animal  was  now  replaced  in  the  box  and  care- 
fully watched.  Apart  from  some  suppuration,  such  as  so 
often  follows  upon  wounds,  simple  and  complicated,  no 
effects  resulted  ;  and  in  a  few  days,  apparently  without  any 
constitutional  disturbance,  my  feline  patient  was  set  at 
liberty.     I  did  not  repeat  the  experiment. 

My  experiments  upon  woinids  of  the  intestines  occupied 
me  more  than  two  years,  and  involved  the  sacrifice  of  up- 
wards of  seventy  dogs.  An  account  of  them  will  be  found 
in  the  Western  Journal  of  Medicine  and  Surgery  for  1842- 
'43.  It  was  afterwards  published  in  book  form.  Nearly  the 
whole  edition  of  the  work  was  lost  in  a  fire  which  destroyed 
the  printing-office.  The  book  was  favorably  spoken  of  in 
the  medical  journals,  especially  in  the  British  and  Foreign 
Medical  Review,  edited  by  Dr.  John  Forbes,  of  London, 
which  contained  an  elaborate  and  critical  notice  of  it. 

During  my  residence  at  Easton,  in  1833,  I  served  several 
times  as  an  expert  in  important  trials,  and,  on  one  occa- 
sion, as  the  chief  medical  witness.  The  case  was  that  of 
Goetter,  a  man  who  had  killed,  by  manual  strangulation 
in  the  eighth  month  of  her  pregnancy,  a  woman  whom 
he  had  seduced.  I  made  the  post-mortem  examination,  but 
neglected  to  open  the  skull,  and  on  this  account  I  was  sub- 
jected to  a  good  deal  of  annoyance  during  the  trial,  as  the 
defence  partly  rested  upon  the  ground  that  the  woman  had 
died  of  apoplexy.  It  was  evident,  however,  from  the  marks 
upon  her  neck  and  the  condition  of  the  face  and  lungs  that 
she  had  died  from  asphyxia,  and  I  gave  my  testimony  ac- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  53 

cordingly.  The  man  was  convicted  solely  upon  circum- 
stantial evidence  ;  but  the  day  before  his  execution  he  con- 
fessed that  he  had  choked  the  woman  to  death  with  his 
hand.  To  throw  light  upon  this  mode  of  death,  I  performed 
twelve  experiments  upon  inferior  animals,  principally  rab- 
bits, and  carefully  noted  the  results,  which  were  afterwards 
published  in  the  Western  Journal  of  Medicine,  edited  by 
Dr.  Daniel  Drake,  under  the  title  of  Observations  on 
Manual  Strangulation.  An  outline  of  these  experiments 
and  of  the  Goetter  case  will  be  found  in  a  note  in  Beck's 
Medical  Jurisprudence. 

The  Goetter  trial  constituted,  I  have  always  thought, 
the  most  important  event  of  my  professional  life  at  Easton. 
It  attracted  great  attention,  not  only  on  account  of  the 
atrocity  of  the  murder,  but  of  the  ability  of  the  counsel 
engaged  in  conducting  the  defence,  the  master  spirit  being 
the  late  James  Madison  Porter,  a  shrewd  and  accomplished 
lawyer,  celebrated  for  his  dexterity  as  an  examiner  of  wit- 
nesses, which,  combined  with  a  certain  amount  of  impu- 
dence, caused  him  to  be  greatly  feared.  Besides  all  this, 
he  was  an  able  advocate.  My  examination  lasted  the 
best  part  of  a  day,  and,  as  I  had  thoroughly  prepared  my- 
self at  every  point,  my  testimony  was  received  with  much 
respect  by  the  court  and  jury.  An  attempt  to  invalidate 
some  of  my  conclusions  by  bringing  in  several  physicians 
as  experts  failed  to  make  any  adverse  impression. 

Mr.  Porter  at  the  time  adverted  to  was  in  the  prime  and 
vigor  of  life,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  better  practice  than 
any  other  member  of  the  Easton  bar.  It  was  several  years 
before  this  event  that  he  founded  Lafayette  College,  origi- 
nally a  manual  labor  institution,  with  the  late  Rev.  George 
Junkin  at  its  head.  The  college  building,  a  rented  farm- 
house, was  situated  in  South  Easton,  and  was  provided 
with  shops  and  machinery  for  the  benefit  of  the  students, 
most  of  whom  literally  supported  themselves  by  the  sweat 
of  their  brow  ;  board  and  lodging  being  furnished  them  at 


54 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


a  low  price.  The  establishment  made  slow  progress,  and 
no  one  who  then  watched  it  would  have  supposed  that 
out  of  its  loins  would  spring  the  flourishing  institution 
now  widely  known  as  Lafayette  College.  Dr.  Junkin  was 
an  unpopular  officer,  a  Presbyterian  preacher  of  the  "Old 
School, ' '  and  a  man  who,  as  he  walked  along,  never  took 
his  eyes  off  the  ground,  being  evidently  lost  in  deep 
thought,  and,  consequently,  in  no  condition  to  notice  any 
one — student,  friend,  or  citizen.  Of  native  kindness  he 
had  an  abundance  ;  he  was  a  good  disciplinarian,  and  was 
regarded  by  many  as  a  strong  man  in  the  pulpit  for  his 
argumentative  powers  and  the  depth  of  his  reasoning. 
His  sermons,  however,  were  always  very  long,  and  there- 
fore unpopular,  especially  with  young  persons. 

Soon  after  the  organization  of  the  college  I  was  sur- 
prised one  day  to  receive  a  notice  of  my  election  to  the 
chair  of  Chemistry.  Upon  inquiry  as  to  what  my  duties 
would  be,  I  was  informed  that  they  would  for  the  present 
be  merely  nominal.  I  therefore  considered  myself  as 
perfectly  safe  in  accepting  the  position,  which  I  should 
probably  not  have  done  had  the  reverse  been  the  case,  as 
I  had  never  made  chemistry  a  special  study.  This  chair, 
since  the  reorganization  of  the  college,  has  been  very  cred- 
itably filled  by  Dr.  Traill  Green,  a  native  of  Easton,  who, 
like  myself,  was  a  private  pupil  of  the  late  Dr.  Joseph 
K.  Swift  of  that  town.  Mr.  Porter,  the  president  of  the 
college,  was  a  man  of  great  enterprise,  and  deeply  inter- 
ested in  the  prosperity  and  development  of  Easton  and  its 
vicinity.  He  took  an  active  part  in  the  building  of  the 
Delaware  Division  of  the  Pennsylvania  Canal  and  subse- 
quently in  that  of  the  Delaware  and  Morris  Canal  in  New 
Jersey.  When  Mr.  Tyler  became  President,  he  was  offered 
a  seat  in  his  cabinet  as  Secretary  of  War,  but  he  was  not 
confinned  by  the  Senate.  Late  in  life  he  was  struck  down 
by  apoplexy,  under  the  effects  of  which  he  finally  suc- 
cumbed.    Some  time  after  the  first  attack,  which  left  him 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  55 

with  partial  hemiplegia  and  somewhat  impaired  mental 
powers,  he  wrote  me  a  long  letter,  begging  me  to  use  any 
influence  I  might  have  in  procuring  him  the  chair  of 
Medical  Jurisprudence  in  the  JejBferson  Medical  College ; 
but  as  there  v/as  no  provision  for  such  an  office  the  matter 
of  course  fell  through.  I  learned  subsequently  that  he 
was  in  straitened  circumstances,  and  this  was  probably 
the  reason  of  his  desire  to  be  made  a  professor. 

Andrew  Reeder,  one  of  my  most  intimate  and  valued 
friends,  was  one  of  the  rising  members  of  the  Easton  bar 
at  the  time  of  my  departure  to  the  West.  We  had  known 
each  other  for  many  years,  and  had  been  classmates  at  the 
Lawrenceville  High  School,  New  Jersey.  His  education 
was  respectable ;  and  he  possessed  more  than  ordinary 
talents  and  legal  acumen,  united  with  great  industry  and 
ambition,  and  a  high  sense  of  honor.  He  was  a  warm, 
active  Democrat,  and  was  for  some  time  Governor  of 
Kansas,  an  appointment  bestowed  upon  him  by  President 
Pierce.  I  was  then  a  resident  of  Kentucky,  and  upon 
hearing  of  his  good  luck  lost  no  time  in  sending  him  a 
letter  of  congratulation.  Strange  things  happen.  While 
Governor  of  Kansas  his  path  was  crossed  by  Dr.  William 
A.  Hammond,  of  the  United  States  Army,  aftervvards  for 
some  time  Surgeon-General  in  the  war  of  the  Rebellion. 
When  Hammond  got  into  difficulty  with  Secretary  Stanton 
— a  difficulty  which  finally  led  to  his  dismissal — Andrew 
Reeder  was  employed  to  collect  testimony  in  this  city  by 
the  examination  of  witnesses  against  the  late  Surgeon- 
General,  and  I  never  saw  a  man  who  entered  more  eagerly 
upon  the  discharge  of  the  duties  of  his  office.  His  object 
was  to  revenge  himself  upon  his  Kansas  enemy,  and  how 
he  acquitted  himself  the  result  only  too  clearly  showed.  I 
was  anxious,  as  the  friend  of  both,  that  he  should  be 
merciful,  and  even  throw  up  the  appointment,  but  to  this 
he  lent  a  deaf  ear. 

The  fate  of  Andrew  Reeder,  as  Governor  of  Kansas,  is 


56  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

well  known.  Unwilling  to  sacrifice  liis  self-respect  at  the 
demands  of  the  border  ruffians,  and  in  constant  conflict 
with  the  legislature  of  the  State,  which  moved  about 
from  one  place  to  another,  and  whose  illegal  acts  he  was 
compelled  to  veto,  he  was  succeeded  by  Wilson  Shannon, 
ex-Governor  of  Ohio.  My  friend's  life  was  finally  imper- 
illed, and  he  was  compelled  to  seek  safety  in  flight  in  the 
disguise  of  a  common  laborer.  Reeder  was  born  near 
Trenton,  New  Jersey,  and  died  in  1864,  leaving  behind 
him  the  reputation  of  an  honest  citizen  and  a  good  man. 

The  most  illustrious  member  the  Easton  bar  has  ever 
had  was  the  Hon.  Samuel  Sitgreaves,  a  gentleman  of  high 
social  and  professional  standing,  and  for  some  years  min- 
ister under  John  Adams's  administration  at  the  Court  of 
St.  James.  He  was  a  man  of  fine  literary  taste,  of  great 
intelligence  and  refinement,  an  extensive  reader,  a  great 
lawyer,  and  the  possessor  of  a  large  library.  He  was  not 
popular  with  the  people  among  whom  he  lived,  as  he  was 
too  great  an  aristocrat  to  be  estimated  by  them  at  his  real 
worth.  He  died  at  an  advanced  age.  He  was  a  tall,  ele- 
gant-looking man,  with  a  noble  presence,  such  as  would 
have  attracted  attention  anywhere. 

\  The  medical  profession  of  Easton  at  the  period  in  ques- 
tion was  in  a  decidedly  mediocre  condition,  without  science, 
without  learning,  without  progress,  and  apparently  with- 
out ambition.  Every  man  seemed  to  live  in  and  for 
himself.  Hardly  any  two  could  be  found  willing  to  meet 
each  other  in  consultation.  Jealousy  and  ill-feeling  were 
the  order  of  the  day.  Each  physician  had  of  course  his 
little  clique  or  faction.  This  poor  fellow  had  this  fault, 
and  that  one  that.  But  upon  one  thing  all  were  agreed : 
they  all  bled,  all  gave  emetics,  all  purged,  all  starved 
their  patients.  They  were  all  real  Sangrados,  mowing 
down  alike  the  infant,  the  youth,  the  adult,  and  the 
old  man.  Tartrate  of  antimony  and  potassium  was  the 
favorite  emetic,  calomel  and  jalap  the  accepted  cathartic. 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  57 

and  water-gTuel  or  panada  tlie  common  fever  diet.  Very 
few  of  them  ever  read  a  medical  book ;  and,  as  to  social 
intercourse,  that  was  of  course  wholly  out  of  the  question 
under  the  circumstances.  The  remuneration  for  profes- 
sional services  was  contemptible  in  the  extreme.  For  a 
visit  in  town  the  ordinary  charge  was  fifty  cents,  and 
double  that  sum  for  a  ride  into  the  country.  Bleeding 
and  extraction  of  teeth,  at  that  time  very  common  opera- 
tions, generally  commanded  twelve  and  a  half  cents  each ! 
Every  physician  put  up  his  own  prescriptions.  Swift, 
my  first  preceptor,  was  unpopular  in  his  manners,  and  pos- 
sessed, as  he  imagined,  of  a  preemption  right  to  the  best 
practice  in  the  place;  but  the  truth  is,  his  practice  was 
limited,  and  he  made  but  little  headway,  even  in  his 
best  days,  in  securing  the  confidence  of  the  public.  His 
early  life  was  unproductive,  and  the  last  twenty  years  or 
more  were  spent  in  suffering,  caused  by  epithelial  cancer 
of  the  face,  from  the  effects  of  which  he  finally  died. 
During  nearly  all  this  time  he  was  confined  to  his  house, 
unable  to  attend  to  practice,  and  the  consequence  was  that 
poverty  was  superadded  to  ill  health.  I  can  imagine  no 
fate,  no  destiny,  more  sad  than  this.  With  all  his  faults — 
perhaps  I  should  rather  say  defects — Swift  had  many  ex- 
cellent qualities  ;  he  was  undoubtedly  a  man  of  brains, 
with  a  clear  intellect,  and  a  lofty  sense  of  the  dignity  of 
his  profession.  As  previously  mentioned  he  had  a  choice 
collection  of  minerals,  now  in  the  possession  of  Lafayette 
College  ;  but  he  never  cultivated  mineralog\'  or  geology  as 
a  science.  Mrs.  Swift,  who  wrote  some  pretty  poetry,  and 
was  a  contributor  to  some  of  the  magazines  of  the  day, 
suri'ived  her  husband  several  years.  They  were  both  great 
readers  of  light  literature  ;  and  early  in  life  their  little 
house  was  the  resort  of  most  of  the  prominent  strangers 
who  visited  Easton  on  business  or  pleasure. 

In  the  summer  of  1832  the  Asiatic  cholera  appeared, 
for  the  first  time  on  the  American  continent,  in  Canada, 
1—8 


58  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

and  then  in  New  York.  Early  in  Jnly  it  broke  out  with 
great  violence  in  New  York  City,  producing  much  con- 
sternation among  its  inhabitants,  as  well  as  everywhere 
else  in  the  Atlantic  States.  Easton,  only  eighty  miles  off, 
participated  in  the  alarm,  and  at  a  meeting  of  the  town 
council,  held  on  the  19th  of  July,  1832,  I  was  appointed 
to  visit  New  York  for  the  purpose  of  investigating  the 
disease  and  conferring  with  the  medical  gentlemen  of  that 
city  upon  the  most  approved  mode  of  treating  it ;  and  I 
was  requested  to  report  such  other  matters  connected  with 
the  subject  as  might  be  of  benefit  to  the  citizens  of  Easton 
in  averting  the  epidemic,  or  which  might  have  a  ten- 
dency to  lessen  its  malignity,  should  it  unfortunately  ap- 
pear in  that  town. 

In  compliance  with  this  injunction,  I  soon  after  visited 
New  York,  arriving  there  just  in  time  to  witness  the 
disease  in  all  its  horrors.  In  fact,  it  had  just  attained 
its  height ;  for,  upon  the  day  of  my  arrival,  the  29th 
of  the  month,  it  had  destroyed  not  fewer  than  three 
hundred  and  eighty-five  persons — an  enormous  mortality, 
considering  the  comparatively  small  size  of  the  population, 
and  the  fact  that  great  numbers  of  people  had  fled  the  city 
to  escape  the  pestilence.  During  my  sojourn,  which  lasted 
nearly  a  week,  I  visited  all  the  cholera  hospitals  and 
witnessed  the  treatment  pursued  in  them  by  the  profes- 
sional attendants.  I  also  conversed  with  some  of  the  most 
distinguished  physicians  of  the  city  respecting  the  nature 
and  treatment  of  the  disease  and  the  best  mode  of  avert- 
ing it.  Little,  however,  was  learned  in  this  manner.  No 
one  seemed  to  have  definite  notions  upon  any  of  these 
points.  Empiricism  reigned  with  imlimited  sway.  Every 
hospital  had  its  peculiar  formulae ;  every  physician  his 
peculiar  views.  At  the  Greenwich  Street  Hospital,  one 
of  the  largest  and  best-ordered  establishments  of  the  kind 
in  the  city,  the  attendants,  Drs.  Roe  and  Lee,  relied 
mainly  upon  emunctions  of  mercurial  and  capsicum  oint- 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  59 

merit,  witli  calomel,  camphor,  and  capsicum  internally. 
The  whole  body  of  the  patient  was  incased  in  a  thick 
layer  of  this  ointment,  and  numerous  persons  whose  duty 
it  was  to  apply  it  were  at  hand.  From  all  I  could  learn  this 
mode  of  treatment  was  more  successful  than  any  other 
at  the  time  in  vogue.  Dr.  Roe  was  an  oddity.  He  ap- 
peared to  have  an  idea  that  the  best  preventive  of  the 
disease  was  the  maintenance  of  a  copious  perspiration,  and 
he  accordingly  constantly  w^ore,  buttoned  up  to  the  chin, 
a  thick  drab-colored  overcoat,  although  the  thermometer 
at  the  time  stood  generally  at  from  94°  to  98°  in  the  shade. 
He  seemed,  however,  to  flourish  under  this  load  of  cloth- 
ing, for  he  never  had  an  attack  of  the  disease.  I  was  told 
that  he  was  a  most  worthy  and  intelligent  man.  He 
afterwards  enjoyed  a  large  private  practice,  and  died  very 
suddenly  only  a  few  years  ago  of  disease  of  the  heart. 
His  colleague,  Dr.  Charles  Lee,  survived  him,  and  was 
well  known  as  an  able  writer  and  distinguished  lecturer, 
being  connected  at  one  time  v/ith  at  least  four  medical 
schools.  I  need  not  add  that  most  of  the  patients  who 
recovered  under  this  mercurial  treatment  were  horribly 
salivated. 

What  struck  me  as  remarkable  in  cholera  patients  at 
this  time,  and  what  I  never  witnessed  afterwards  in  tliis 
disease  to  the  same  extent,  was  the  extraordinary  spas- 
modic twitching  of  the  voluntary  muscles  after  death,  by 
which  the  body  was  frequently  thrown  into  violent  contor- 
tions. The  features  were  not  so  much  disturbed  as  the 
limbs,  especially  the  legs,  which  were  in  numerous  in- 
stances thrown  about  in  different  directions,  literally  kick- 
ing the  air  and  everything  else  coming  within  their  reach. 

After  having  spent  nearly  a  week  in  this  city  of  charnel- 
houses,  in  constant  attendance  upon  my  duties,  I  left  for 
my  home,  and  in  a  few  days  after  published  a  report  of 
my  investigations.  The  paper,  which  occupied  several  col- 
umns of  the  Easton  Argus,  presented  a  plain  unvarnished 


6o     A  UTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  SAMUEL  D.   GROSS,  M.  D. 

statement  of  what  I  had  seen  and  done,  without  any  at- 
tempt to  unravel  the  nature  and  causes  of  the  epidemic,  or 
to  indicate  the  best  means,  except  a  proper  observance  of 
the  laws  of  hygiene,  of  preventing  its  dissemination.  Of 
the  medical  treatment,  of  which  I  had  learned  nothing  that 
was  at  all  satisfactory,  very  little  was  said.  The  town 
council  paid  me  one  hundred  dollars  for  my  services ;  a 
considerable  portion  of  which  I  spent  in  the  necessary  ex- 
penses of  the  journey. 


CHAPTER    III. 

MOVE  TO  CINCINNATI — BECOME  DEMONSTRATOR  OF  ANATOMY  IN  THE  MEDICAL 
COLLEGE  OF  OHIO — MADE  PROFESSOR  OF  PATHOLOGICAL  ANATOMY  IN  CIN- 
CINNATI COLLEGE — FACULTY — HORATIO  G.  JAMESON — ^JAMES  B.  ROGERS — A 
SLIP  OF  MEMORY — ^JOHN  P.  HARRISON — LANDON  C.  RIVES — ^W.  H.  McGUFFEY— 
PRACTICE — DISSECTIONS — PATHOLOGICAL  ANATOMY — DECLINE  APPOINTMENT 
OF  PROFESSORSHIP  OF  MEDICINE  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  VIRGINIA  AND  OF 
ANATOMY  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  NEW  ORLEANS — NICHOLAS  LONGWORTH — 
ANDREW  JACKSON — LYMAN  BEECHER — ROBERT  LYTLE — SALMON  P.  CHASE — 
TIMOTHY  WALKER — ARCHBISHOP  PURCELL — GAMALIEL  BAILEY — BISHOP  McIL- 
VAINE — DANIEL  WEBSTER — GENERAL   W.   H.   HARRISON. 

In  the  spring  of  1833  I  wrote  to  Dr.  Eberle,  one  of  my 
old  college  preceptors,  then  a  professor  in  the  Medical  Col- 
lege of  Ohio,  at  Cincinnati,  saying  that  I  should  be  happy 
to  obtain  the  place  of  Demonstrator  of  Anatomy  in  that 
institution,  adding  that  I  was  anxious  to  qualify  my- 
self as  a  teacher  of  anatomy,  and  that  I  was  only  wait- 
ing for  an  opportunity  to  enter  upon  my  labors.  The 
mail  soon  brought  me  a  letter  from  the  good  man,  who 
said  that  he  would  lay  the  matter  before  his  colleagues, 
and  expressed  the  belief  that  he  could  be  instrumental  in 
serving  me.  The  result  was  that  I  was  soon  appointed 
to  the  position  in  question,  and  in  October,  1833,  I 
accordingly  removed  to  the  Queen  of  the  West,  as  Cin- 
cinnati was  then  called.  My  family  at  this  time  con- 
sisted of  four  members,  including  two  little  children,  my 
stepson  and  one  of  my  own  sons  having  died  some  time 
previously  of  scarlet  fever.  The  journey,  which  was 
tedious,  and  was  performed  partly  by  stage,  partly  by 
canal,    and    partly   by   steamboat,    occupied   a   little   up- 

61 


62  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

wards  of  tliirteen  days.  The  evening  before  my  depar- 
ture I  counted  my  money,  and  found  in  my  purse  the 
enormous  sum  of  two  hundred  and  thirty-seven  dollars  ! 
Of  this,  more  than  one  hundred  dollars  were  left  on  the 
wayside.  With  the  remainder  I  commenced  life  in  Cin- 
cinnati, "a  stranger  in  a  strange  land;"  for  Eberle,  and 
Mitchell  the  dean  of  the  college,  were  my  only  acquain- 
tances. I  took  three  letters  of  introduction  to  men  of 
influence  in  Cincinnati.  Of  these  I  delivered  two ;  but, 
as  they  received  no  attention,  I  never  delivered  the 
other,  addressed  to  a  gentleman  who  afterwards  attained 
eminence  in  the  world  as  an  astronomer,  and  who  be- 
came a  general  in  the  Union  army — Professor  Ormsby 
M.  Mitchel.  After  this  I  never,  except  on  one  occa- 
sion, accepted  a  letter  of  introduction  to  any  one,  hav- 
ing independence  enough  to  rely  upon  my  own  resources 
and  address  for  advancement  in  my  profession.  I,  how- 
ever, soon  carved  my  own  way  ;  I  was  popular  in  my  new 
office  of  demonstrator ;  went  to  housekeeping  early  in  the 
following  spring,  and  rapidly  acquired  practice — the  pro- 
ceeds by  the  end  of  the  first  year  amounting  nearly  to 
fifteen  hundred  dollars,  which  sum,  added  to  my  college 
receipts,  was  quite  sufficient  for  my  support,  and  satisfied 
me  that  I  had  done  wisely  in  making  the  West  my  home. 

A  little  incident  occurred  soon  after  my  arrival  at  Cin- 
cinnati which,  at  the  time,  caused  me  considerable  annoy- 
ance. I  had  hardly  entered  upon  the  discharge  of  my 
official  duties,  when,  early  one  morning,  Dr.  Mitchell 
called  at  my  lodgings  and  asked  me  whether  I  had  seen  a 
certain  article  in  reference  to  myself  in  the  Cincinnati 
Gazette,  adding  that  the  Professor  of  Anatomy  had  taken 
umbrage  at  it,  and  that,  in  consultation  with  some  of  his 
colleagues,  they  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  would 
be  best,  at  all  events  for  the  present  winter,  that  I  should 
not  lecture  in  the  amphitheatre,  as  had  been  agreed  upon 
when  I  accepted  the  office  of  Demonstrator  of  Anatomy. 


-      SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  63 

Upon  inquiring  what  the  oflfensive  article  was,  for  I  had 
neither  seen  it  nor  heard  of  it,  he  informed  me  that  it  was 
a  complimentary  notice  of  myself,  in  which  the  writer  con- 
gratulated the  IMedical  College  of  Ohio  upon  its  acquisition 
of  so  able  an  anatomist — a  kind  of  puflf,  intended,  as  the 
Professor  of  Anatomy,  naturally  a  ver}'  jealous  man,  sup- 
posed, to  be  a  reflection  upon  his  ovrn  ability  as  a  teacher. 
It  required  no  consideration  as  to  what  I  should  do  on  the 
occasion,  I  therefore  at  once  said,  "If  the  Faculty  debar 
me  from  lecturing  in  connection  with  practical  anatomy, 
as  had  been  stipulated,  my  only  course  is  to  withdraw 
from  the  school  and  get  along  as  best  I  may.  ]\Iy  object 
in  emigrating  to  the  West,"  I  continued,  "was  to  qualify 
myself  for  teaching  anatomy,  and  if  this  privilege  be 
denied  me  I  shall  be  sadly  disappointed. ' '  Mitchell  there- 
upon went  away,  but  returned  the  same  afternoon,  saying 
that  the  Faculty  had  decided  to  fit  up  for  me  a  lecture- 
room  in  the  attic  of  the  college,  close  to  the  dissecting- 
room.  This  was  accordingly  done,  and  I  now  began 
in  earnest  to  organize  the  department,  which,  up  to 
that  time,  had  been  shamefully  neglected ;  for  upon  my 
arrival  at  Cincinnati  I  found  ever>-thing  in  the  depart- 
ment of  practical  anatomy  in  the  college  in  the  most  mis- 
erable condition.  There  was  not  a  table,  not  a  water- 
tank,  not  a  bench,  not  a  wash-basin  in  the  room  ;  in  short, 
nothing  that  denoted  that  any  dissections  had  ever  been 
carried  on  within  its  walls.  Some  students  had  already 
assembled,  and  the  session  was  to  open  in  a  few  days.  No 
time  was  to  be  lost.  Ever^'thing  Vv-as  to  be  done,  and 
done  promptly.  Carpenters  were  at  once  procured,  and 
in  less  than  a  v:eek  my  room  had  quite  a  furnished 
appearance.  Out  of  about  eighty-six  students,  my  class 
numbered  nearly  sixty.  I  gave  regularly  three  lectures 
a  week,  chiefly  on  surgical  and  visceral  anatomy,  kept 
the  rooms  well  supplied  with  subjects,  and  thus  laid  the 
foundation  of  the  study  of  practical  anatomy,  up  to  that 


64  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

time  a  nominal  matter  in  the  Western  States.  In  the 
spring  and  autumn  I  delivered  private  courses  to  small 
classes,  earning  little  money,  but  heaping  up  valuable 
knowledge,  and  acquiring  some  reputation  as  a  zealous 
anatomist  and  as  a  respectable  lecturer. 

I  may  here  remark  that  in  one  of  these  private  courses 
my  class  numbered  five  students  and  a  half.  I  say  half, 
because  one  of  the  young  gentlemen,  under  some  pretence 
or  other,  although  very  desirous  of  attending  my  course, 
could  not,  he  said,  be  always  present,  and  I  therefore 
admitted  him  at  half  price,  my  ticket  being  ten  dollars. 

The  summer  after  my  removal  to  Cincinnati  I  became 
joint  editor,  with  Dr.  Eberle,  Dr.  Albau  G.  Smith,  and 
Dr.  Gamaliel  Bailey,  of  the  Western  Medical  Gazette,  an 
arrangement  which  continued  in  force  until  my  retirement 
from  the  school  in  the  summer  of  1835.  During  my  con- 
nection with  this  journal  I  furnished  an  elaborate  paper  on 
Intra-Uterine  Respiration  in  its  Relation  to  Infanticide, 
an  account  of  several  surgical  cases,  and  several  reviews, 
among  others  one  of  Dr.  William  Beaumont's  treatise  on 
the  Functions  of  Digestion.  These  were  the  first  papers 
which  I  ever  prepared  for  any  medical  journal.  They 
were  well  received. 

I  remained  in  the  Medical  College  of  Ohio  only  two 
sessions.  I  did  not  like  my  situation.  The  Faculty  was 
especially  a  weak  one,  composed,  for  the  most  part,  of  sel- 
fish, narrow-minded  men,  with  moderate  scientific  attain- 
ments, and  little  ability  as  teachers.  I  could  not  forget  the 
illiberal  conduct  which  had  sent  me  to  the  garret  instead 
of  affording  me  free  access  to  the  amphitheatre.  The 
writer  who  had  fired  the  squib  in  the  Gazette  knew  his 
man  ;  and,  although  I  had  reason  to  believe  that  he  had 
no  wish  to  annoy  me,  he  unwittingly  did  me  a  positive 
injury. 

In  1835  the  Medical  Department  of  the  Cincinnati  Col- 
lege was  organized,  with  a  chair  of  Pathological  Anatomy, 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  65 

to  which  I  was  unanimously  appointed  by  the  trustees. 
My  colleagues  were  Drs.  Daniel  Drake,  the  founder  of  the 
school,  Joseph  Nash  McDowell,  Landon  C.  Rives,  John  P. 
Harrison,  Horatio  G.  Jameson,  and  James  B.  Rogers, 
nearly  all  men  of  brains,  energ}^,  and  laudable  ambition, 
with  a  full  appreciation  of  their  positions  as  professors  in  a 
new  and  rival  institution.  Jameson  and  Rogers  were 
brought  from  Baltimore  under  a  guarantee  each  of  fifteen 
hundred  dollars.  At  the  end  of  the  first  session  Jameson, 
having  failed  to  give  satisfaction,  returned  to  Baltimore, 
and  Dr.  Willard  Parker  succeeded  him  in  the  chair  of 
Surgery. 

The  school  continued  in  operation  until  1839,  when  it 
was  disbanded,  Parker  having  accepted  the  chair  of  Surgery 
in  the  College  of  Physicians  and  Surgeons  of  New  York, 
and  Drake  that  of  Pathological  Anatomy  and  Clinical 
Medicine  in  the  Louisville  Medical  Institute,  better  known 
afterwards  as  the  University  of  Louisville.  The  class 
during  the  last  session  of  the  college  numbered,  if  I  mis- 
take not,  one  hundred  and  fourteen,  and  the  school  was 
destined,  if  its  career  had  not  thus  been  unexpectedly 
arrested,  soon  to  outstrip  the  Medical  College  of  Ohio,  as 
it  had  a  far  abler  Faculty.  The  event  did  not  disappoint 
me,  for,  notwithstanding  we  had  a  respectable  class,  and 
had  made  fair  progress,  the  enterprise  barely  paid,  and 
as  we  had  lost  two  of  our  best  men  it  would  have  been 
difiicult  to  carry  on  the  institution. 

The  downfall  of  the  Cincinnati  College  was,  as  I  now 
view  it,  a  fortunate  circumstance  for  me.  It  left  me,  in 
1839,  f'^^^  to  devote  myself  to  my  practice,  which  had 
already  become  large  and  lucrative.  The  retirement  of  Dr. 
Drake  caused  angry  remarks  on  the  part  of  certain  mem- 
bers of  the  Faculty,  chief  of  whom  was  McDowell,  his 
brother-in-law.  Drake  knew  how  difficult  it  would  be 
to  build  up  a  great  school  in  the  existing  state  of  affairs, 
and  the  offer  received  from  Louisville,  with  the  promise  of 
1—9 


66  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

rapid  reward,  was  too  tempting  to  be  resisted.  He  was 
poor,  had  had  numerous  reverses,  and  needed  assistance. 
Besides,  he  had  lost  nearly  all  his  practice,  and  w^as  not 
likely  to  regain  it  if  he  should  remain  in  Cincinnati.  The 
retirement  of  Parker  could  not  be  immediately  remedied. 

Some  errors  were  committed  in  the  original  organiza- 
tion of  the  college.  It  was  without  funds,  even  without 
a  suitable  edifice ;  and  there  was  not  a  member  of  the 
Faculty  who  had  a  hundred  dollars  lying  idle  in  bank. 
Upon  five  of  us  devolved  all  the  expenses  of  the  outfit  for 
a  successful  course  of  lectures,  besides  the  guarantee  of  the 
two  professors  above  named.  The  whole  schem-c  looked 
like  an  attempt  to  roll  logs  up  a  steep  hill.  One  great 
mistake  was  the  appointment  of  Dr.  Jameson  to  so  impor- 
tant a  chair  as  Surgery.  He  had  been  a  signal  failure  as  a 
teacher  of  surgery  in  the  Washington  Medical  College  at 
Baltimore,  and  was  superannuated  when  he  was  invited  to 
Cincinnati.  Any  fire  he  ever  might  have  had  had  long 
been  extinguished.  He  was  too  unsympathetic  to  please 
the  student ;  too  old  to  acquire  practice.  He  felt  the  lone- 
liness of  his  situation,  and  was  glad,  on  the  offer  of  a  thou- 
sand dollars,  to  return  to  Baltimore.  In  his  earlier  days 
he  was  not  without  some  merit ;  he  was  a  bold  surgeon, 
and  performed  some  creditable  operations.  As  a  teacher 
he  was  a  sad  failure,  and  he  should  have  had  sense 
enough  never  to  venture  into  a  Western  lecture-room  in  the 
presence  of  such  a  man  as  Daniel  Drake  and  some  of 
his  colleagues.  Jameson  was  the  founder  of  the  Maryland 
Medical  Recorder,  and  he  wielded  a  caustic  pen  as  a  re- 
viewer, although  he  could  lay  no  claim  to  the  character 
of  an  elegant  writer.  His  journal  perished  before  he  set 
out  for  Cincinnati.  After  his  retirement  from  his  chair, 
he  spent  the  remainder  of  his  days  in  indigence  and  ob- 
scurity. 

James  B.  Rogers,  our  other  imported  colleague,  was 
unlike  his  fellow-townsman ;   indeed,    the  very  opposite, 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  67 

for  he  was  a  brilliant  teacher,  and  decidedly  the  most 
excellent  lecturer  on  chemistr}'  I  have  ever  listened  to, 
I  do  not  except  from  this  eulog}^,  so  justly  merited, 
even  his  brother,  Robert  E.  Rogers,  so  well  known 
for  a  third  of  a  century'  as  an  eloquent  expounder  of 
the  same  branch  of  science,  and  for  a  number  of  years 
my  honored  colleague  in  the  Jefferson  Medical  College. 
Rogers  belonged  to  an  extraordinary  family  of  scientists. 
The  father,  a  Scotch-Irish  gentleman,  came  to  this  coun- 
try near  the  close  of  the  last  century,  graduated  in  medi- 
cine, in  1802,  in  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  and  was 
Professor  of  Natural  Philosophy  and  Chemistry  in  William 
and  Mar}'  College,  at  Williamsburg,  Virginia,  from  1819 
until  his  death  in  1828.  Had  he  lived  a  third  of  a  cen- 
tury longer,  he  would  have  had  cause  to  be  proud  of 
his  four  sons,  every  one  of  whom  made  his  mark  in  the 
study  of  the  natural  sciences,  especially  chemistry  and 
geology. 

After  he  left  Cincinnati  James  removed  to  Philadelphia, 
where  he  engaged  as  a  private  teacher  of  chemistry,  be- 
sides lecturing  for  a  number  of  years  on  that  branch  in 
Chapman's  Medical  Institute,  and  assisting  his  brother, 
Professor  Henry  D.  Rogers,  in  his  geological  surveys  of 
Pennsylvania  and  Virginia.  He  also  occupied,  for  a  short 
time,  the  chair  of  Chemistry  in  the  Franklin  College  of 
this  city ;  but  the  crowning  glory  of  his  life  was  the  chair 
of  Chemistry  conferred  upon  him,  in  1847,  ^^  ^'^^  retire- 
ment of  the  great  Professor  Hare,  in  the  University  of 
Pennsylvania.  He  had  hitherto  met  with  nothing  but 
crosses  and  rebuffs,  a  victim  of  the  res  angusta  domi.  A 
bright  future  seemed  to  be  dawning  on  him.  This,  how- 
ever, was  destined  to  be  of  short  duration.  The  deleterious 
gases  of  the  laboratory,  preying  upon  a  constitution  natu- 
rally delicate,  had  long  been  undermining  his  health,  and 
were  now  gradually  sapping  the  foundations  of  life.  After 
a  connection  of  five  years  with  this  great  school  he  closed 


68  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

his  mortal  career  in  1852.  He  left  no  legacy  for  his  family 
except  an  honored  name. 

Henry  D.  Rogers,  after  having  earned  a  great  reputation 
as  a  scientist,  spent  the  evening  of  his  life  in  Glasgow  as 
Regius  Professor  of  Natural  History  in  the  University  of 
that  city.  His  geological  and  palseontological  researches 
and  his  various  writings  made  him  widely  known  in  both 
hemispheres,  and  his  death,  in  1866,  was  everywhere 
much  regretted. 

Professor  William  B.  Rogers,  after  having  occupied 
several  scientific  positions  in  Maryland  and  Virginia,  re- 
moved to  Boston  in  1853,  where  he  assisted  in  founding 
the  Massachusetts  Institute  of  Technolog>^,  of  which  he 
was  the  first  President.  He  was  the  author  of  a  number  of 
scientific  treatises,  and  President,  in  1875,  of  the  American 
Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Science.  His  death 
took  place  suddenly,  while  he  was  in  the  act  of  distributing 
the  prizes  on  commencement  day  to  the  students  of  the 
Institute  of  Technology. 

Professor  Robert  E.  Rogers,  the  sole  survdvor  of  this  re- 
markable family,  is  still  actively  engaged  in  the  discharge 
of  the  duties  of  his  chair  in  my  Alma  Mater.  The  only 
family  that  presents  any  parallel  to  this  in  this  country 
was  that  of  the  Becks,  mentioned  elsewhere. 

A  circumstance  of  a  personal  nature  connected  with  my 
early  colleague  I  must  not  omit  to  refer  to  here,  inas- 
much as  it  serv^es  to  show  the  importance  of  preserving 
letters,  too  often  destroyed  almost  the  moment  they  are 
received.  I  have  already  stated  that  Rogers  came  to  us 
imder  a  guarantee  for  three  years,  pledged  to  him  by  five 
members  of  the  Faculty.  When  the  school  was  disbanded, 
my  share  amounted  to  three  hundred  dollars,  which  I 
liquidated  by  check  drawn  on  Philadelphia  in  1841,  soon 
after  my  removal  to  Louisville.  Six  years  after  this, 
what  was  my  surprise  when,  one  day,  I  received  a  letter 
from  him  kindly  reminding  me  of  my  supposed  indebt- 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  69 

edness.  Assured  that  the  obligation,  principal  and  interest, 
had  been  discharged  long  ago,  I  promptly  consulted  my 
well-filled  bag  of  letters  in  the  attic  of  my  house,  and 
there,  after  an  elaborate  and  fatiguing  search,  found  the 
desired  voucher  in  the  handwriting  of  my  excellent  friend, 
whose  memory'  had  for  once  proved  treacherous.  A  more 
honest  man,  and,  I  may  add,  a  more  amiable  one,  than 
James  B.  Rogers  never  breathed. 

Dr.  John  P.  Harrison  was,  if  I  mistake  not,  a  native 
of  Kentucky.  He  had  made  all  his  arrangements  to  move 
to  Philadelphia  when,  as  he  was  on  his  way  to  that  city, 
he  was  offered  the  chair  of  Materia  Medica  and  Thera- 
peutics in  our  infant  school.  He  had  culture,  with  enthu- 
siasm and  earnestness  in  the  lecture-room,  and  was  popular 
with  the  students ;  but  he  was  essentially  a  weak  man,  an 
imitator,  as  a  writer  and  lecturer,  of  the  inelegant  st}"les  of 
Caldwell  and  Chapman,  and,  like  them,  a  hide-bound  solid- 
ist — men  who  did  not  think  it  possible  for  the  blood  to  be 
endowed  with  the  slightest  vitality.  It  is  difficult  now  to 
conceive  that  there  existed  physicians  so  recently  who 
could  have  believed  in  such  absurdity.  After  the  dissolu- 
tion of  our  school  he  accepted  the  corresponding  chair  in 
the  Medical  College  of  Ohio,  and  wrote  a  work  on  Materia 
Medica  and  Therapeutics,  which  fell,  as  he  might  have 
supposed  it  would,  stillborn  from  the  press. 

Our  Professor  of  Midwifery'  was  Landon  C.  Rives,  a  gen- 
tleman of  education  and  refinement,  a  native  of  Virginia, 
and  the  brother  of  William  C.  Rives,  at  one  time  minister 
at  the  court  of  France.  He  discharged  well  the  duties  of 
his  chair,  was  popular,  and  commanded  general  respect 
by  the  gentleness  and  urbanity  of  his  manners.  He  had 
but  one  fault;  he  lacked  industry,  a  gift  so  valuable  in 
a  teacher.  He  disliked  writing,  and  never  made  an  at- 
tempt at  authorshii).  The  Medical  College  of  Ohio  was 
glad  to  secure  his  services  as  Professor  of  Obstetrics  after 
the  downfall  of  our  bantling.     I  was  warmly  attached  to 


70  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

Rives,  and  we  remained  devoted  friends  up  to  tlie  time 
of  his  death.  Of  Drake  and  Parker  mention  will  be  made 
in  due  time  in  connection  with  various  labors. 

McDowell  was  an  eloquent  and  enthusiastic  teacher  of 
anatomy ;  he  had  a  remarkable  gift  of  speech,  and  could 
entertain  and  amuse  his  class  in  a  wonderful  degree.  He 
never  hesitated  to  go  out  of  his  way  to  abuse  a  professor 
in  another  school,  or  to  talk  disparagingly  of  a  colleague ; 
and  borrowing  money  from  students  was  not  regarded  by 
him  as  a  crime.  His  conduct  in  St.  Louis,  where  he  settled 
after  the  breaking  up  of  our  school,  was  that  of  a  madman 
rather  than  that  of  a  sane  person.  During  the  late  war  he 
embraced  the  Southern  cause,  fled  to  Europe,  and  finally, 
with  the  reputation  of  an  erratic  genius,  he  died  in  a  state 
of  utter  bankruptcy.  Jealousy  was  one  of  his  consuming 
vices,  and  no  man  ever  wagged  a  fouler  tongue.  With 
proper  training  and  proper  self-restraint  he  might  have 
become  a  great  and  shining  light  in  medicine,  instead  of 
being  a  byword  on  the  part  of  the  public  and  of  his  pro- 
fessional brethren.     Such  was  Joseph  Nash  McDowell ! 

Our  hospital,  so  necessary  an  adjunct  to  a  well-organized 
medical  school,  was  generally  deficient  in  inmates,  and  we 
had,  consequently,  to  do  the  best  we  could  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. Our  nurse  was  an  Irishman,  named  John, 
and  our  enemies  amused  themselves  by  saying  that,  when 
we  were  short  of  patients,  John  served  as  a  substitute  by 
imitating  all  sorts  of  accidents  and  diseases.  Great  rivalry 
existed  between  the  two  schools,  and  our  opponents  used 
every  possible  effort  to  keep  our  students  out  of  the  Com- 
mercial Hospital,  at  that  time  the  only  institution  of  the 
kind  in  Cincinnati. 

The  Cincinnati  College  had,  as  contemporaneous  organi- 
zations, a  literary  and  a  law  department.  It  was  the  in- 
tention of  its  founders,  especially  of  Dr.  Drake,  to  establish 
eventually  a  great  university.  Its  President  was  the  Rev. 
Dr.  W.  H.  McGuffey,  at  one  time  President  of  the  Miami 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  71 

University,  a  man  of  culture  and  great  force  of  character, 
who  afterwards  occupied  a  chair  in  the  University  of  Vir- 
ginia, and  acquired  distinction  as  a  writer  of  school-books. 
Conjoined  with  his  duties  was  the  office  of  lecturer  on  Men- 
tal Philosophy,  and  he  was  one  of  the  ablest  and  most  elo- 
quent speakers  I  have  ever  listened  to.  In  the  literary  de- 
partment the  principal  professors  were  Ormsby  M.  Mitchel; 
Mr.  Harding,  a  }'oung  man  of  some  cleverness  ;  and  Alex- 
ander H.  McGufifey,  a  brother  of  the  president  and  a  son- 
in-law  of  Dr.  Drake.  In  the  law  department  were  Edward 
Mansfield  and  Judge  Timothy  Walker,  author  of  An  In- 
troduction to  American  Law,  a  work  of  merit.  I  am  not 
certain  that  Benjamin  Drake,  a  brother  of  my  colleague, 
did  not  also,  for  a  time,  occupy  a  chair  in  it. 

After  the  downfall  of  the  College  I  devoted  myself, 
heart  and  soul,  to  the  practice  of  medicine  and  surgery. 
My  business  rapidly  increased,  and  when  I  left  Cincinnati 
in  the  autumn  of  1840  my  books  for  the  preceding  twelve 
months  showed  an  income  of  a  little  upwards  of  nine 
thousand  dollars.  I  had  for  several  }'ears  a  large  con- 
sultation practice,  and  patients  began  to  pour  in  upon  me 
in  considerable  numbers  from  a  distance.  The  names  of 
more  than  one  hundred  of  the  most  respectable  and  influ- 
ential families  of  the  city  were  upon  my  ledger,  including 
many  warm  personal  friends.  My  knowledge  of  the  Ger- 
man language  was  of  great  use  to  me  during  my  residence 
at  Cincinnati,  especially  the  early  part  of  it,  as  much  of 
my  i^ractice,  before  I  became  generally  known,  was  among 
the  German  emigrants  and  persons  of  German  descent, 
natives  of  the  country. 

After  my  appointment  to  the  chair  of  Pathological 
Anatomy  in  the  Cincinnati  College,  I  commenced  at  once 
a  course  of  study  to  aid  me  in  the  discharge  of  my  official 
duties.  Indeed,  I  may  say,  I  abandoned  myself  almost 
wholly  for  tlie  first  few  years  to  the  illustration  of  my  de- 
partment.    I  bought  all  the  books  upon  the  subject  that 


73 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


I  could  find,  and  my  medical  friends  did  all  they  could 
to  throw  post-mortem  examinations  into  my  hands.  A 
large  field  was  thus  afforded  me  for  the  study  of  morbid 
structure,  which  I  most  gladly  and  thoroughly  worked 
up.  It  was  my  custom  to  make  the  dissections  as  com- 
plete as  possible,  spending  often  upwards  of  two  hours 
upon  each  case,  and  carrying  away  with  me  the  more  in- 
teresting specimens  for  future  and  more  minute  inspec- 
tion. After  a  careful  and  sometimes  protracted  exam- 
ination, of  which  full  notes  were  always  taken,  the 
specimens  were  thoroughly  macerated,  and  then  preserved 
in  alcohol.  In  this  way  I  laid  the  foundation  of  a  museum 
of  pathological  anatomy,  which,  when  the  college  was 
broken  up,  contained  a  large  number  of  valuable  prepara- 
tions. 

It  was  from  these  dissections,  from  an  elaborate  course 
of  reading,  and  from  numerous  visits  to  the  pork  and 
slaughter  houses  of  Cincinnati,^  that  I  derived  the  know- 
ledge upon  which  I  founded  my  work  on  Pathological 
Anatomy,  issued  in  1839,  in  two  octavo  volumes  of  more 
than  five  hundred  pages  each.  The  work  was  illus- 
trated by  numerous  wood-cuts  and  several  colored  engrav- 
ings. Dr.  William  E.  Horner,  Professor  of  Anatomy  in 
the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  had,  it  is  true,  previously 
published  a  small  book  on  Pathological  Anatomy ;  but 
it  was  made  up  mainly  of  extracts  from  Broussais  and 
other  writers,  interspersed  with  cases  and  dissections  oc- 
curring in  his  own  practice,  private  and  hospital.  As  far 
as  I  know,  mine  was  the  first  attempt  ever  made  in  this 
countr\',  or,  indeed,  in  the  English  language,  to  system- 
atize the  subject  and  to  place  it  in  a  connected  form  before 
the  profession.  The  book  was  well  received.  A  second 
edition,  greatly  enlarged  and  thoroughly  revised,  much 
of  it  having  been  rewritten,  was  issued  in  1845  t>y  Bar- 
rington  &  Haswell,  of  Philadelphia,  in  one  large  octavo 
volume  of  eight   hundred   and   twenty-two   pages,    illus- 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  73 

trated  by  colored  engravings  and  two  hundred  and  fifty 
wood-cuts.  It  was  full  of  marginal  references,  which 
greatly  enhanced  its  value.  A  third  edition  —  the  last 
one  —  modified  and  carefully  revised,  and  illustrated 
by  three  hundred  and  forty-two  engravings  on  wood, 
appeared  in  1857  from  the  press  of  Blanchard  &  Lea. 
It  fonned  an  octavo  volume  of  seven  hundred  and 
seventy-one  pages.  It  was,  in  some  degree,  an  abridgment 
of  the  second  edition,  and  yet  it  comprised  a  very  good 
outline  of  the  existing  state  of  the  science.  I  was  assisted 
in  its  preparation,  especially  the  microscopical  portion,  by 
Dr.  J.  T\I.  Da  Costa,  now  my  distinguished  colleague,  who 
was  well  informed  on  the  subject.  The  labor  of  re- 
writing and  dovetailing  of  course  devolved  upon  me.  I 
never  liked  this  edition.  It  always  seemed  to  me  as  if 
the  work  had  been  emasculated,  inasmuch  as  I  left  out  all 
marginal  references  and  all  that  related  to  diagnosis. 

The  work,  in  its  original  form,  cost  me  much  labor  and 
anxiety.  It  was  written  when  I  was  a  young  man,  without 
any  one  to  advise  or  guide  me,  in  my  leisure  hours,  often 
snatched  from  sleep,  and  under  the  exhaustion  of  fatigue, 
when  one  is  ill-qualified  for  healthful  mental  exertion.  A 
solitary  lamp  was  generally  my  only  companion,  in  a  base- 
ment office,  and  it  was  often  past  the  hour  of  midnight 
before  my  head  pressed  its  pillow.  Upwards  of  three  years 
were  spent  upon  its  composition.  When  the  manuscript 
was  completed  I  offered  it  to  different  publishers  in 
Philadelphia  and  New  York,  but  no  one  was  willing  to 
undertake  its  publication,  and  it  was  only  after  a  good  deal 
of  hard  work  that  I  finally  succeeded  in  inducing  Marsh, 
Capen,  Lyon  &  Webb,  of  Boston,  to  bring  it  out.  After 
much  delay  it  at  length  appeared,  under  the  title  of  Ele- 
ments of  Pathological  Anatomy.  For  this  edition  I  received 
no  remuneration.  The  Boston  house  failed  soon  after  its 
publication,  and  did  not  even  pay  the  proof-reader,  the  late 
Dr.  Jeffries  Wyman,  who  had  kindly  agreed  to  perform 


74  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

this  office  for  me.  The  second  edition  yielded  twelve 
hundred  dollars,  and  the  last  edition  one  thousand  dollars. 
The  work  was  dedicated  to  my  friend  and  colleague,  Dr. 
Daniel  Drake. 

There  is  one  feature  of  this  book  which  is  worthy  of 
special  notice.  I  refer  to  the  fact  that  the  description  of 
the  morbid  anatomy  of  every  organ  in  the  body  was  pre- 
ceded by  an  account  of  its  healthy  color,  weight,  size,  and 
consistence,  founded  upon  original  observation,  a  plan 
until  then  unknown  in  such  works.  The  labor  bestowed 
upon  these  investigations  involved  much  trouble  and  pains- 
taking. It  was  an  important  advance  in  the  study  of 
pathological  structure. 

While  this  work  was  in  progress  I  contributed  a  con- 
siderable number  of  papers,  original  and  in  the  form  of 
reviews,  some  of  them  quite  elaborate,  to  the  Western 
Journal  of  the  Medical  and  Physical  Sciences,  edited  by 
Dr.  Drake ;  instructed  a  number  of  office  students ;  at- 
tended to  a  large  and  onerous  practice ;  and  never  missed  a 
lecture.  In  1839,  soon  after  the  collapse  of  the  Cincinnati 
College,  I  was  unanimously  appointed  Professor  of  Medi- 
cine in  the  University  of  Virginia,  a  compliment  so  much 
the  more  honorable  because  it  was  entirely  unsolicited  on 
my  part.  In  fact,  I  knew  nothing  of  it  until  I  received 
my  official  notification.  The  offer  was  promptly  declined. 
The  chair  was  soon  afterwards  given  to  Dr.  Howard,  of  Bal- 
timore. I  had  also  during  my  residence  at  Cincinnati  the 
offer  of  the  chair  of  Anatomy  in  the  University  of  Louisi- 
ana, at  New  Orleans,  founded  by  the  late  Dr.  Charles  A. 
Luzenberg,  who  was  a  graduate  of  the  Jefferson  Medical 
College,  and  for  a  number  of  years  a  warm  personal  friend. 

Among  those  who  were  most  prominent  at  this  time 
as  practitioners  were  ' '  Charley' '  Woodward,  as  he  was 
familiarly  called,  a  man  of  great  mental  and  physical 
activity,  whom  I  frequently  met  in  consultation,  and 
who  never  saw  me  without  telling  me  how  many  patients 


SAMUEL  £>.    GROSS,   M.  D.  75 

he  had  already  visited  during  the  morning,  and  how  much 
he  had  ' '  booked' '  the  day  before ;  Dr.  Richards,  a  refined 
and  an  excellent  gentleman,  who  enjoyed  for  a  long 
time  the  most  select  practice  in  the  Queen  City ;  Vincent 
Marshall,  who  was  distinguished  mainly  as  the  husband 
of  a  noted  belle  in  her  day — for  his  anecdotes  of  Mott 
and  Strong,  whose  pupil  he  had  been — and  for  button- 
holing his  friends  on  the  street ;  John  IVIorehead,  Pro- 
fessor of  Midwifery  in  the  Medical  College  of  Ohio,  an 
Irishman  who,  although  he  lived  nearly  half  a  century  in 
this  country,  never  became  a  naturalized  citizen,  and  late 
in  life  returned  to  Ireland  to  inherit  a  large  estate ;  Wil- 
liam Wood,  a  man  of  some  talent,  but  of  an  ill-gxained, 
crooked  disposition ;  Israel  Dodge,  the  prying  doctor,  as 
he  was  called,  who  knew  ever}-body's  business  better 
than  his  own  ;  Dr.  Simmons,  who  afterwards  settled  in  St. 
Louis,  where  he  married  his  second  wife's  daughter,  and 
was  driven  from  the  town ;  John  Shotwell,  a  man  of  abil- 
ity, who  took  special  delight  in  persecuting  his  old  friend, 
Dr.  Drake ;  and  Dr.  Silas  Reed,  who  became  engaged  in 
a  "difficulty"  with  Dr.  Jedediah  Cobb,  which,  through  the 
happy  interposition  of  the  police,  did  not  terminate  in  a 
duel.  IVIason  and  Whitman,  the  one  a  fussy  man,  and  the 
other  a  dull,  heavy  one,  buried  themselves  under  their  dig- 
nity, and  had  but  a  small  share  of  practice.  Professor  Reu- 
ben D.  Mussey  enjoyed  a  commanding  surgical  business, 
and  Dr.  Noah  Worcester,  his  partner,  a  shrewd  Yankee, 
made  a  specialty  of  skin  diseases,  on  which,  I  think,  he 
wrote  the  first  treatise  ever  published  in  this  country. 
There  was  an  oculist  in  the  city,  of  great  pretensions,  of 
the  name  of  Waldo,  whose  habit  was  invariably  to  pray 
with  and  for  his  patients  before  he  operated  upon  them. 
Cobb  never  enjoyed  a  commanding  practice,  and  Eberle 
was  too  much  of  a  bookworm  to  secure  the  favor  of  the 
people. 

I  must  not  forget  to  mention,  in  this  place,  the  name 


76  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

of  a  physician  who,  although  young  and  obscure  during 
my  residence  in  Cincinnati,  loomed  up  afterwards  as  a 
practitioner  and  a  politician.  Dr.  John  L.  Vattier  was  a 
graduate  of  the  Medical  College  of  Ohio,  and  in  his  early 
days  was  a  druggist.  Being  gradually  drawn  aside  from 
his  profession,  he  became  a  State  senator,  was  postmaster 
at  Cincinnati  under  Pierce  and  Buchanan,  and  served  in 
various  positions  of  trust  and  honor  until  his  death  in 
1881.  He  was  a  man  of  fine  physique,  and  the  idol  of  his 
friends.  He  was  the  survivor  of  the  Last  Man  Society,  of 
Cincinnati,  founded  in  that  city  during  the  invasion  of 
the  Asiatic  cholera  in  1832,  and  composed  originally  of 
seven  members.  A  bottle  of  wine  was  sacredly  preserved 
in  a  casket,  to  be  opened  by  the  survivor,  and  for  many 
years  he  sat  down  alone  at  the  table,  with  six  empty  plates 
and  chairs,  sad  reminders  of  the  past,  and  drank  to  the 
memory  of  his  departed  friends.  After  his  death  a  touch- 
ing sketch  of  his  life  was  published  in  the  Cincinnati  lyan- 
cet  from  the  pen  of  Dr.  J.  H.  Buckner. 

The  society  of  Cincinnati  was  at  that  time  very  good. 
It  contained  many  cultivated  men  and  women,  and  there 
was,  for  a  long  time,  a  club  which  met  at  one  another's 
houses  to  read  essays  and  discuss  literary  matters.  The 
entertainments  were  usually  very  simple  and  unostenta- 
tious, consisting  of  coffee,  tea,  lemonade,  cake,  and  ices. 
Dr.  Drake  sometimes  treated  his  guests  to  doughnuts,  and 
to  lemonade  dipped  out  of  a  buckeye  bowl,  which  acquired 
an  American  celebrity.  He  thus  entertained  one  evening 
a  large  party  given  to  General  Winfield  Scott.  The  occa- 
sion excited  a  good  deal  of  merriment  at  the  expense  of 
the  host.  The  hero  of  Lundy's  Lane  had  no  doubt  ex- 
pected a  more  substantial  repast. 

Among  the  men  whom  I  also  frequently  saw  were  Judge 
Jacob  Burnet ;  General  William  Lytle,  and  his  son ;  Dr. 
Lyman  Beecher ;  Charles  Hammond,  editor  of  the  Cin- 
cinnati Gazette ;  Rev.  Dr.    Calvin  Ellis  Stowe,  the  hus- 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,    M.  D.  77 

band  of  I\Irs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe,  and  Professor  in  the 
Walnut  Hill  Theological  Seminary ;  Salmon  P.  Chase,  af- 
terwards Chief  Justice  of  the  United  States ;  Archbishop 
Purcell ;  Judge  Wright,  an  astute  law}'er  and  politician, 
the  successor  of  Charles  Hammond  in  the  Gazette  ;  Bishop 
Mcllvaine ;  Rev.  Dr.  Brooke,  an  eloquent  preacher  of  the 
Episcopal  Church ;  the  Rev.  Dr.  Aydelotte ;  Judge  David 
K.  Este ;  George  Schoenberger,  and  Wright  Smith,  a 
whole-souled  man,  of  whom  I  have  many  pleasant  recol- 
lections. "Billy"  Greene,  as  he  was  familiarly  called, 
was  a  pretentious  lawyer,  but  a  pleasant,  sociable,  and  in- 
telligent gentleman  from  Rhode  Island. 

One  of  the  eccentric  men,  of  whom  Cincinnati  at  one  time 
had  several,  was  Mr.  Nicholas  Longworth,  originally  from 
Newark,  New  Jersey.  He  had  settled  in  the  West  many 
years  previously,  and  had,  by  judicious  investments,  ac- 
quired great  wealth.  He  was  a  man  of  small  stature, 
and  was  noted  for  his  oddities,  a  marked  one  of  which 
consisted  in  walking  along  the  thoroughfares  of  the  city, 
whittling  pine  sticks  with  a  small  knife,  and  lost,  appar- 
ently, to  all  surrounding  objects.  Of  course,  ever^'body 
knew  him.  In  his  later  years  he  exerted  himself  in  intro- 
ducing grape  culture  in  the  neighborhood  of  Cincinnati, 
and  he  was  one  of  the  first  in  this  country  to  manufacture 
champagne,  of  which  he  had  at  one  time  a  large  supply  in 
his  cellar,  built  expressly  for  that  purpose. 

In  the  autumn  of  1837,  late  in  October,  if  my  memory 
is  not  at  fault,  General  Andrew  Jackson,  on  his  way  to  the 
Hermitage,  stopped  at  Cincinnati  as  the  guest  of  General 
William  Lytle.  The  evening  after  his  arrival  a  grand  re- 
ception was  given  him,  which  was  attended  by  all  the 
prominent  citizens  of  the  place.  The  crowd  was  immense, 
the  grounds  were  brilliantly  lighted,  and  the  whole  scene 
was  one  to  be  remembered  by  those  who  witnessed  it.  My 
wife  and  myself  were  of  the  party,  and  thus  an  excellent 
opportunity  was  afforded  us  of  obtaining  a  view  of  a  man 


78  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

who,  during-  his  political  career,  had  perhaps  more  friends 
and  more  enemies  than  any  other  American  ever  had.  On 
this  occasion,  in  looking  at  this  great  man — for  so  the 
world  must  regard  him — I  was  forcibly  impressed  by  his 
venerable  appearance,  the  dignity  of  his  demeanor,  and  the 
suavity  and  grace  of  his  manners.  He  had  the  elegance 
and  polish  of  a  courtier.  His  hair,  nearly  white,  was 
brushed  back,  as  in  his  earlier  days,  and  his  countenance 
shone  with  peculiar  benignity.  No  one  who  then  stood  in 
his  presence  would  have  supposed  that  he  could  ever  have 
stamped  his  foot  in  a  rage  and  uttered  the  memorable 
words,  "  By  the  Eternal,  I'll  hang  you  on  Capitol  Hill  if 
you  do  not  stop  these  treasonable  acts !"  He  was  the  lion 
only  when  excited — the  lamb  in  his  ordinary  life.  He 
could  roar,  but  there  was  also  music  in  his  voice,  as  sweet 
and  gentle  as  that  of  the  most  delicate  and  refined  woman. 
I  had  long  felt  a  desire  to  see  this  extraordinary  personage ; 
and  I  left  the  house  of  General  L^^tle  with  the  conviction 
that  I  had  looked  upon  an  honest  man  without  the  aid  of 
the  lantern  of  Diogenes.  General  Jackson  was  accompa- 
nied by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Polk. 

Lyman  Beecher  was  a  man  of  rare  character,  of  great 
powers  of  mind,  and  of  indomitable  energy.  Early  in 
life  he  worked,  it  is  said,  in  a  blacksmith  shop  ;  but 
becoming  disgusted  with  his  occupation  he  entered  Yale 
College  and  afterwards  studied  divinity,  in  which,  as  is 
well  known,  he  gradually  rose  to  great  and  well-merited 
eminence.  By  rare  industry  he  surmounted  the  obstacles 
which  his  poverty  and  early  deficiencies  had  placed  in 
his  path,  and  long  before  he  attained  middle  age  he  had 
acquired  the  reputation  of  being  a  learned  man.  As  a 
preacher,  he  was  eccentric,  argumentative,  and  dogmati- 
cal, and  withal  tedious,  his  sennons  being  always  long 
and  decidedly  dry.  Although  in  my  judgment  he  was  not 
a  very  eloquent  speaker,  he  commanded  good  houses  on 
account  of  the  orthodox  character  of  his  discourses.     His 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  79 

pronunciation  of  certain  words  was  peculiar.  For  example, 
he  alwa^'S  said  "  natur"  for  nature,  and  "critter"  for  crea- 
ture— sounds  which,  coming  from  a  great  preacher,  grated 
harshly  upon  one's  ears.  In  private  conversation  he  was 
exceedingly  agreeable  and  communicative,  and  he  had  the 
happy  faculty  of  making  every  one  feel  at  ease  in  his 
presence.  He  was  for  nearly  twenty  years  President  of 
Lane  Seminary  at  Cincinnati,  took  an  active  interest  in 
the  temperance  cause,  and  was  the  author  of  a  number 
of  works  much  esteemed  in  their  day.  Lyman  Beecher 
affords  a  significant  illustration  of  what  may  be  accom- 
plished by  persistent  effort,  guided  by  a  vigorous  intellect. 

One  of  the  most  brilliant  men  in  Cincinnati  at  the  time 
here  referred  to  was  Robert  Lytic,  generally  known  by 
the  sobriquet  of  ''  Bob."  He  was  a  man  of  brilliant  intel- 
lect, eloquent,  impulsive,  handsome,  fascinating  in  his 
manners,  and  distinguished  for  his  ability  in  controlling 
the  masses.  Like  his  father,  one  of  the  early  settlers  of 
Ohio,  and  a  gentleman  at  one  time  of  great  wealth,  Robert 
was  a  strong  Democrat ;  he  w^as  a  capital  stump  orator, 
and  represented  the  Cincinnati  district  for  a  time  in  Con- 
gress. His  popularity  was  his  ruin.  I  attended  him  during 
his  last  illness.  Death,  the  immediate  cause  of  which  was 
phthisis,  overtook  him  at  New  Orleans,  whither,  despite 
my  remonstrance,  he  went  to  eke  oiit  his  brief  existence. 

Salmon  P.  Chase,  whom  I  knew  well  as  a  young  man, 
was  tall  and  handsome,  erect  as  a  pole,  ambitious,  highly 
cultured,  and  very  agreeable  in  his  manners.  A  teacher 
of  a  classical  school  in  his  younger  days,  he  studied 
law  in  the  ofhce  of  Chief  Justice  Cranch,  of  Washing- 
ton City,  and  by  industry,  talent,  and  genius  gradually 
rose  to  be  Governor  of  Ohio,  Secretary-  of  the  Treasury' 
under  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  Chief  Justice  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  United  States.  Such  an  amount  of  success 
betokens  great  natural  ability,  and  an  amount  of  labor 
such  as  few  men,  even  of  iron  constitution,  can  endure. 


8o  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

One  regrets,  in  looking  at  Mr.  Chase's  pure  and  patriotic 
life,  that  he  failed  to  attain  the  goal  of  his  ambition — the 
Presidency  of  the  United  States,  an  office  which  he  was 
so  well  qualified  to  fill  with  credit  and  dignity.  As  a 
financier  during  the  critical  period  of  our  history,  when 
our  currency  was  tottering  to  and  fro,  his  labors  were  of 
inestimable  ser\dce. 

Timothy  Walker,  a  contemporary  of  Chase,  was  the  im- 
personation of  a  bon  vivant.  He  had  a  large  head,  a  ruddy 
complexion,  and  a  stout,  masculine  frame,  which  looked  as 
if  it  might  last  a  hundred  years  ;  and  yet,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  fast  living,  with  three  and  often  four  heavy  meals 
a  day,  washed  down  with  generous  wine,  he  broke  down 
at  a  comparatively  early  age.  Apoplexy  did  the  w^ork. 
Although  Mr.  Walker  occupied  a  high  position  at  the  bar, 
and  was  successively  a  judge,  a  lecturer  in  a  law  school, 
and  a  writer  on  law  of  some  note,  he  was  inferior  to  Mr. 
Chase  in  great  intellectual  qualities,  and  in  those  attri- 
butes of  character  which  place  a  man  head  and  shoulder 
above  his  contemporaries. 

Of  Bishop,  now  Archbishop,  Purcell  my  recollections  are 
very  pleasant.  He  is  one  of  the  most  affable  and  genial 
of  men,  a  delightful  talker,  full  of  anecdote,  rich  in  know- 
ledge, a  finished  scholar,  and  a  popular  as  well  as  a  great 
preacher.  The  Catholic  Church  is  indebted  to  him  for 
much  of  the  influence  and  elevated  position  which  it  en- 
joys in  the  Western  States.  I  had  personally  lost  sight  of 
the  good  Archbishop  for  nearly  a  third  of  a  century,  when, 
in  June,  1875,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  with  him 
at  the  Cathedral,  on  Logan  Square,  at  the  conferring  of 
the  pallium  upon  Bishop  Wood,  a  ceremony  by  which 
that  good  prelate  was  made  an  archbishop.  He  had  the 
same  bland  countenance  and  the  same  cordial  shake  of  the 
hand  as  at  our  last  interview  in  Cincinnati. 

The  Cincinnati  Gazette  was  for  a  long  time  the  princi- 
pal political  newspaper,  not  only  of  Cincinnati,  but  of  all 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  8i 

the  States  east  of  Kentucky.  Its  editor  at  the  period  in 
question  was  the  well-known  Charies  Hammond,  under 
the  influence  of  whose  trenchant  pen  the  Gazette  obtained 
a  wide  circulation.  He  was  one  of  the  most  caustic  of 
writers,  and  one  of  the  most  bitter  of  men.  Many  of  his 
articles  were  of  a  withering  character ;  and  he  never  hesi- 
tated to  slaughter  an  enemy  when  it  suited  his  spleen  or 
his  interest.  I  am  not  certain  of  his  nativity,  but  my 
impression  has  always  been  that  he  came  from  South 
Carolina. 

Of  the  men  with  whom  I  was  personally  acquainted  in 
Cincinnati,  none  gave  me  heartier  welcome  when  I  arrived 
than  Dr.  Gamaliel  Bailey.  We  had  been  students  together 
in  the  Jefferson  Medical  College  of  Philadelphia  for  two 
winters,  and  had  taken  our  degree  at  the  same  time,  part- 
ing on  commencement  day  with  regret,  lest  we  should  not 
meet  again.  I  was  therefore  agreeably  surprised  when  I 
found  that  my  old  friend  was  a  resident  of  the  Queen 
City.  He  had  preceded  me  by  several  years,  and 
had  already  made  many  friends  and  had  done  some  good 
work,  although  as  a  practitioner  he  had  made  little  head- 
way. He  had  been  for  some  time  connected  with  the  Cin- 
cinnati Medical  Gazette,  had  assisted  Dr.  Eberle  in  the 
composition  of  his  work  on  the  Diseases  of  Children,  and 
had  contributed  numerous  articles  to  the  daily  press.  He 
soon  afterwards  founded  the  Herald,  the  first  antislavery 
newspaper  published  in  Cincinnati ;  and  in  1836,  in  con- 
junction with  Mr.  J.  G.  Birney,  he  established  the  Cincin- 
nati Philanthropist,  an  abolition  journal,  which,  not- 
withstanding his  press  and  other  material  were  destroyed 
by  a  mob,  he  continued  to  issue  until  1847.  -"^^  ^^^^^  y^^^ 
he  went  to  Washington  City,  where  he  immediately  founded 
the  National  Era,  which  at  one  time  had  a  wide  cir- 
culation. It  was  in  this  paper  that  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher 
Stowe's  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  first  appeared.  Bailey 
was   by   nature   a   self-willed   man,    bold,    stubborn,    de- 


82  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

tennined,  and  not  to  be  pushed  aside  from  any  under- 
taking in  which  he  had  once  fairly  embarked,  or  which 
involved  the  defence  of  what  he  regarded  as  important 
principles.  To  these  qualities,  which  as  often  destroy  as 
make  men,  and  which  are  always  sure  to  hatch  a  numerous 
brood  of  enemies,  he  added  no  inconsiderable  amount  of 
fanaticism,  which  often  betrayed  him  into  difficulties.  His 
wife,  a  clever  little  woman,  of  more  than  ordinary  cul- 
ture, was  in  unison  with  his  antislavery  movements,  and 
was  herself  a  frequent  contributor  to  the  Era.  Many  of 
her  articles  were  spirited  and  well  written.  Life  with 
Bailey  was  a  constant  struggle ;  he  was  poor  when  he  left 
Cincinnati,  and  my  impression  is  that  he  never  enjoyed 
pecuniary  prosperity.  In  stature  he  was  about  the  middle 
height,  well  proportioned,  with  black  eyes,  and  a  hand- 
some face,  expressive  of  benevolence.  He  was  a  native 
of  Mount  Holly,  New  Jersey,  where  he  was  born  in  De- 
cember, 1807.  His  death  occurred  at  Washington  City, 
in  June,  1859,  ^^^  ^^^^  fifty-second  year  of  his  age.  Bailey 
was  never  designed  by  nature  for  a  practitioner  of  medi- 
cine ;  his  manners  were  cold,  and  he  was  too  retired  in  his 
habits  to  be  popular  with  the  masses.  As  a  philanthropist 
he  was  sincere  in  his  convictions  and  honest  in  his  acts ; 
and  his  name  will  always  be  associated  by  the  colored 
race  with  the  names  of  Garrison,  Lundy,  Knapp,  Beecher, 
and  others. 

Bishop  Charles  P.  Mcllvaine  was  a  magnificent  man, 
tall,  erect,  well  formed,  with  the  mien  and  bearing 
of  a  prince,  just  such  a  man  as  would  anywhere,  in  a 
crowd,  in  the  street,  or  in  the  social  circle,  attract 
general  attention.  His  features  were  fine ;  his  eyes  were 
brown,  his  forehead  and  nose  well  shaped,  and  his  mouth 
and  teeth  perfect.  It  has  been  said  that  he  strongly 
resembled  Washington ;  and  in  looking  at  Stewart's  cele- 
brated portrait  of  the  "Father  of  his  Country"  I  have 
often   been   struck  with   the   comparison.      He   belonged 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  83 

emphatically  to  that  old  school  of  gentlemen  who  at 
one  time  abounded  in  this  countr}^,  but  of  whom  few 
are  to  be  seen  in  our  day.  Bishop  IMcIlvaine  had  all 
the  graces  and  accomplishments  of  the  Christian  gentle- 
man. Affable,  kind,  courteous,  he  touched  the  hearts 
of  all  with  whom  chance  or  business  brought  him  in 
contact.  If,  in  early  life,  as  was  said  of  him,  there 
was  a  certain  hauteur  in  his  manner,  he  certainly  had 
nothing  of  the  kind  in  his  riper  years.  Young  men, 
and  )'Oung  women  too,  often  assume  airs ;  and  it  is  quite 
possible  that  the  young  and  handsome  divine  might  occa- 
sionally have  indulged  in  such  a  freak.  Men  who  are 
much  courted  and  caressed,  or  who  are  great  favorites  with 
the  ladies,  are  v^ry  liable  to  be  spoiled  and  sometimes 
even  ruined.  Petted  and  feted,  he  never  for  a  moment 
lost  sight  of  the  dignity  of  his  office  or  of  his  self-respect. 
As  he  was  a  prince  of  a  man,  so  he  was  a  prince  of  a 
bishop.  Few  men  ever  wore  their  clerical  robes  with  more 
grace  and  dignity.  As  he  stood  up  in  the  pulpit,  earnestly 
expounding  the  doctrines  of  the  Bible,  or  controverting 
some  heretical  notions,  there  was  a  majesty  about  him, 
a  sort  of  divine  presence,  which  at  once  riveted  the 
attention  of  his  hearers  and  carried  with  it  the  force  of 
conviction.  His  voice  was  not  only  sweet,  but  strong 
and  well  modulated,  his  manner  earnest  and  impressive, 
his  gestures  graceful.  His  sermons,  which  were  often, 
if  not  generally,  argumentative  and  learned,  abounded  in 
strong  sense,  and  rarely,  if  ever,  offended  by  their  length  ; 
their  style  was  unifonnly  polished,  scholarly,  and  free  from 
cant  or  affectation.  Of  his  numerous  works,  the  ablest, 
perhaps,  is  his  Evidences  of  Christianity,  which,  written 
when  he  was  comparatively  a  young  man,  has  passed 
through  numerous  editions,  and  has  made  his  name  widely 
known  at  home  and  abroad.  Some  of  his  writings  were 
of  a  controversial  character,  and  were  severely  criticised 
by   his    opponents.      Of    this   character   was    his   Oxford 


84  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

Divinity,  which  brought  him  into  collision  with  the  Ox- 
ford Tractarians,  but  in  favor  with  the  authorities  of  that 
famous  university,  which,  in  token  of  its  appreciation 
of  his  distinguished  merits,  conferred  upon  him,  in  1853, 
the  degree  of  D.  C.  L.  He  occupied  many  positions  of 
trust  and  honor,  and  was  bishop  of  the  diocese  of  Ohio 
for  upwards  of  forty  years,  or  from  1832  up  to  the  time 
of  his  death,  in  1873. 

My  acquaintance  with  this  good  prelate  extended  over 
a  third  of  a  century.  During  the  latter  years  of  my  resi- 
dence in  Louisville  he  was  for  nearly  a  week  an  inmate  of 
my  house,  having  been  called  thither  by  business  con- 
nected with  the  church.  It  was  during  this  visit,  made 
in  midwinter,  that  an  occurrence  took  place  which  came 
very  near  proving  fatal  to  a  large  number  of  persons,  in- 
cluding the  Bishop.  He  had  said  good-bye  to  my  family 
and  was  on  his  way  to  the  other  side  of  the  Ohio  River  to 
take  the  train  for  Cincinnati.  As  the  river  was  full  of  ice, 
the  ferryboat  soon  became  uncontrollable,  and  was  by  the 
merest  accident  prevented  from  being  swept  over  the  falls. 
As  no  very  secure  landing  could  be  effected,  it  was  not 
without  great  difficulty  that  the  passengers,  including  men, 
women,  and  children,  were  at  length  put  on  shore.  While 
this  was  going  on  every  entreaty  failed  to  induce  the 
Bishop  to  leave  the  vessel,  and  it  was  not  until  after  every 
one  was  safely  landed  that  he  quit  it.  Had  it  not  been  for 
his  courage  and  great  presence  of  mind  it  is  impossible  to 
say  what  might  have  happened  during  the  great  alarm 
and  confusion  which  had  seized  all  on  board. 

I  saw  Bisboj)  Mcllvaine  for  the  last  time  in  July,  1872. 
He  was  then  sojourning  with  his  daughters  in  St.  John's 
Wood,  near  Ivondon  ;  and,  having  learned  that  Mrs.  Gross, 
my  son,  and  myself  were  in  lodgings  on  Princes  Street, 
he  was  kind  enough  to  visit  us.  During  the  hour  which 
he  spent  with  us  he  talked  with  his  accustomed  vigor  and 
animation,  dwelling  with  peculiar  gratification  upon  his 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  85 

intervaews  with  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  his  family,  and 
telling  us  some  interesting  anecdotes  about  the  children. 
It  was  not,  however,  without  deep  concern  that  I  witnessed 
the  change  which  had  taken  place  in  his  appearance  since 
we  had  parted  with  him  a  few  years  before  in  Philadelphia. 
He  had  become  thin  and  pale,  and  there  was  a  sinister 
stoop  in  his  shoulders  denotive  of  debility.  The  day  was 
uncommonly  hot,  and  I  would  fain  have  ordered  a  car- 
riage for  him  had  he  not  resolutely  declined  the  offer.  As 
he  walked  away  from  the  door  my  eye  followed  him,  and 
I  observed  to  my  wife  and  son,  ' '  We  have  seen  the  last 
of  the  good,  dear  Bishop."  My  prophecy  proved  to  be 
only  too  true.  In  the  autumn  he  left  London  for  Florence, 
where  he  expired  on  the  12th  of  March,  1873,  at  the  age 
of  seventy-five  )'ears.  He  was  a  native  of  Burlington, 
New  Jersey. 

It  was  in  the  summer  of  1837  that  Mr.  Webster  stopped 
at  Cincinnati  during  his  western  tour,  and  that  I  had  an 
opportunity  of  being  introduced  to  him.  This  office  was 
kindly  performed  for  me  by  my  friend  and  colleague,  the 
late  Dr.  Daniel  Drake,  who  had  made  Mr.  Webster's  ac- 
quaintance many  years  before  at  Boston,  when  the  great 
statesman  paid  him  more  than  ordinary  attention.  Mr. 
Webster  was  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Webster  and  a  daugh- 
ter, and  was  staying  at  the  Pear  Street  House,  then  the 
most  fashionable  hotel  of  Cincinnati,  as  the  guest  of  the 
city.  It  was  nearly  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when 
we  called,  and  as  it  had  been  announced  in  the  morning 
that  Mr.  Webster  would  address  the  people  a  great  crowd 
had  already  assembled  around  the  hotel.  We  made  our 
way  into  the  parlor,  where  we  found  him  seated  on  a  sofa 
listening  to  the  conversation  of  some  political  friends,  in 
which  he  apparently  took  but  little  interest.  He  received 
us  very  courteously,  made  a  few  commonplace  remarks, 
and  then  relapsed  into  silence,  from  which  it  was  impos- 
sible to  rouse  him.     He  seemed  to  be  dull  and  heavy,  as  a 


86  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

lion  or  tiger  may  be  supposed  to  be  after  having  gorged 
himself  with  a  heavy  meal.  I  would  not  have  it  inferred 
from  this  remark  that  Mr.  Webster  was  actually  in  this 
condition  ;  but  the  impression  left  upon  my  mind  was  that 
and  nothing  else.  After  sitting  perhaps  ten  minutes  we 
rose  and  took  our  leave.  I  subsequently  learned  that  Mr. 
Webster  had  occasional  fits  of  lethargy  and  abstraction. 
An  hour  later  he  appeared  upon  the  balcony  of  the  hotel, 
accompanied  by  General  Harrison,  who  introduced  him  to 
the  populace.  Thanking  the  crowd  for  their  cordial  re- 
ception of  him,  he  commenced  in  slow  and  measured  tones 
to  discuss  some  of  the  great  political  questions  which  were 
then  agitating  the  country,  but  he  never  rose  during  the 
hour  he  thus  occupied  to  that  enthusiasm  which  was  so 
common  a  characteristic  of  western  stump  orators.  As  a 
speaker,  he  did  not  favorably  impress  me.  He  was  pon- 
derous and  monotonous,  and  as  to  his  gestures,  nothing 
could  have  been  more  awkward  or  more  ungraceful.  His 
forearms,  flexed  at  nearly  a  right  angle  with  the  anns, 
moved  up  and  down  like  sledge-hammers.  Although  there 
was  occasionally  some  cheering,  the  address  failed  to  touch 
the  hearts  of  the  audience.  If  Mr.  Webster  had  been  an 
invalid,  one  could  readily  have  accounted  for  his  want  of 
animation  and  enthusiasm ;  but  this  was  not  the  case. 
Fatigued  he  might  have  been,  and  probably  was ;  but  he 
was  robust,  and  in  the  full  vigor  of  life ;  and  although  he 
lost  some  of  his  stiffness,  if  I  may  so  call  it,  as  he  pro- 
ceeded with  his  address,  most  of  the  crowd  went  away  dis- 
appointed. I  certainly  was  so  myself,  and  I  heard  many 
others  express  themselves  in  a  similar  manner.  Mr.  Web- 
ster was  a  solid  rather  than  a  sprightly  man,  and  it  is  said 
that  he  never  made  so  great  an  effort  as  when  he  was  forti- 
fied by  a  pint  of  brandy  and  a  big  beefsteak. 

During  my  residence  at  Cincinnati  I  often  met  with 
General  William  Henry  Harrison,  the  "Hero  of  Tippeca- 
noe. ' '     At  that  time  he  lived  at  North  Bend,  on  the  Ohio 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  87 

River,  sixteen  miles  below  the  city ;  but  he  often  visited 
it,  either  on  business  or  pleasure.  He  was  a  tall,  slender 
man,  and,  notwithstanding  his  advanced  age,  had  an  un- 
mistakable soldierly  air  and  bearing.  He  had  long  been 
a  victim  of  facial  neuralgia,  which,  with  occasional  attacks 
of  dyspepsia,  gave  him  a  "lean  and  hungry  look,"  in 
striking  contrast  to  the  fat  and  sleek  appearance  of  some 
of  his  friends.  Personally  he  was  very  popular,  and  the 
record  which  he  made  as  a  brave  soldier  during  the  war 
of  1812-14  rendered  him  a  conspicuous  citizen.  His  pri- 
vate character  was  without  reproach.  With  such  a  history, 
it  is  not  surprising  that  the  Whig  party,  in  1840,  should 
have  put  him  in  nomination  for  the  Presidency,  with 
John  Tyler  on  the  ticket  as  his  lieutenant.  "Tippecanoe 
and  Tyler  too"  became  the  watchword  of  the  party,  and 
was  sung  day  and  night  throughout  the  Union,  at  the 
glee  clubs,  and  in  every  political  procession,  almost  in- 
variably accompanied  by  one  or  more  "log-cabins,"  as  off- 
sets against  the  many  emblems  of  the  Democratic  party, 
headed  by  Martin  Van  Buren,  of  New  York.  As  the 
canvass  advanced,  Harrison  became  more  and  more  con- 
fident of  his  success ;  and  late  in  October,  on  the  evening 
prior  to  my  departure  for  Louisville,  my  future  home,  in 
taking  leave  of  me  at  the  house  of  a  common  friend,  he 
accompanied  me  to  the  door,  and,  pressing  my  hand,  he 
said,  "  My  dear  doctor,  before  we  meet  again  you  will  find 
that  I  am  President  of  the  United  States.  I  feel  sure  of 
my  election. ' '  His  words  proved  prophetic.  I  never  saw 
him  again.  His  brief  career  at  the  White  House  is  well 
known.  Naturally  and  by  long  habit  an  early  riser,  he 
forgot,  in  his  familiar  walks  and  visits  to  the  market,  that 
he  lived  on  the  pestiferous  banks  of  the  Potomac,  where 
with  every  breath  he  inhaled  malaria,  which  in  a  few 
weeks  consigned  him  to  an  untimely  grave,  as  it  subse- 
quently did  President  Taylor. 

General  Harrison  was  a  great  talker  and  an  agreeable 


88     AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  SAMUEL  D.  GROSS,  M.D. 

companion,  very  fond  of  ladies'  society.  He  had  a  large 
fund  of  anecdotes  at  his  command.  At  our  last  interview, 
above  referred  to,  with  much  glee  and  a  twinkle  in  his 
brown  eyes,  he  told  an  anecdote,  which  caused  much  mer- 
riment among  our  friends.  A  young  Pennsylvania  German 
farmer,  a  personal  acquaintance  of  mine,  was  exceedingly 
anxious  to  see  the  general,  now  the  Presidential  nominee 
of  the  Whig  party  ;  and  knowing  that  I  resided  at  Cincin- 
nati he  called  upon  me  to  give  him  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion. He  reached  North  Bend  late  in  the  evening,  and 
after  a  good  night's  rest  and  a  hearty  breakfast  the  general 
pointed  out  the  objects  of  greatest  interest  on  his  fann, 
among  others  his  horses  and  cattle.  My  friend  admired 
everything,  but  nothing  struck  his  fancy  half  so  much  as 
a  three-months' -old  calf  browsing  on  the  lawn.  Boiling 
over  with  enthusiasm,  he  exclaimed,  ' '  Cheneral,  mein 
Gott,  dat  is  a  mighty  fine  calf;  Cheneral,  a  mighty  fine 
calf ;  sure  a  man  vat  can  raise  such  a  calf  is  wordy  to  be 
Bresident,  and  I'll  wode  for  him."  The  general  had  a 
great  deal  of  bonhojnie^  with  a  keen  perception  of  the 
ludicrous,  and  was,  when  in  his  best  humor,  to  use  an 
English  expression,  a  "jolly  man,"  enjoying  a  hearty 
laugh  and  a  good  story. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

RLA.de  professor  of  surgery  in  LOUISVILLE,  KENTUCKY — RECEPTION  BY 
THE  MEDICAL  PROFESSION  —  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  LOUISVILLE  —  APPOINTED 
PROFESSOR  OF  SURGERY  IN  NEW  YORK  —  COLLEAGUES  —  RETURN  TO  LOUIS- 
VILLE—  TREATISE  ON  THE  URINARY  ORGANS  —  TREATISE  ON  FOREIGN 
BODIES  IN  THE  AIR-PASSAGES — EXPERIMENTS  ON  DOGS — WORK  ON  WOUNDS 
OF  THE  INTESTINES — OTHER  CONTRIBUTIONS  TO  MEDICAL  LITERATURE  WHILE 
IN  KENTUCKY — REMINISCENCES — W.  J.  GRAVES — A  FAMOUS  DUEL — GEORGE 
POINDEXTER — BARON    FRIEDRICH    LUDWIG     GEORG    VON     RAUMER — ^JAMES    P, 

ESPY — JOHN     J.     CRITTENDEN — MILLARD     FILLMORE — THE     BRECKINRIDGES 

JAMES  GUTHRIE — ^JOHN   ROWAN — HENRY  CLAY. 

During  the  spring  of  1840  the  chair  of  Surgery  in  the 
Louisville  Medical  Institute,  afterwards  the  University  of 
Louisville,  became  vacant  by  the  forced  resignation  of  Dr. 
Joshua  B.  Flint,  who  had  failed  to  receive  the  approval  of 
his  colleagues  and  pupils  as  an  efficient  teacher.  Soon  after 
this  event  the  dean  of  the  Faculty,  the  late  Dr.  Charles 
W.  Short,  visited  me,  in  his  official  capacity,  with  an  offer 
of  the  vacant  place,  and  a  guarantee  of  three  thousand 
dollars.  Before  I  accepted  it  I  visited  Louisville  to  in- 
form myself  more  fully  of  the  condition  and  prospects 
of  the  school.  Satisfying  myself  that  it  was  destined, 
under  proper  management,  to  take  a  high  rank,  I  re-| 
moved  to  Kentucky  late  in  the  following  October.  The 
Faculty  was,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  a  very  able 
one.  The  most  distinguished  members  at  that  time  were 
Charles  Caldwell,  Daniel  Drake,  and  John  Esten  Cooke, 
who  had  long  been  teachers,  and  had  earned  an  exten- 
sive reputation  as  writers.  Cooke  was  the  author  of  a 
work  on  Therapeutics,  and  was  well  known  on  account 
of   his   peculiar   doctrines   in   regard   to   the    nature   and 

treatment   of   diseases.      Jedediah  Cobb  was  well-known 

1-12  89 


90 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


as  an  excellent  lecturer  on  anatomy,  and  as  a  neat,  beau- 
tiful dissector.  Short  enjoyed  a  wide  reputation,  both 
at  home  and  abroad,  as  a  botanist.  Yandell,  who  had 
long  taught  chemistry,  was  a  capital  talker  and  an  able, 
pungent  writer.  Miller  was  a  rising  man,  although  a  dull 
lecturer ;  he  has  since  earned  an  enviable  reputation  as  an 
author  and  as  a  practitioner  in  female  diseases.  I  was  the 
youngest  member  of  the  Faculty  ;  or,  if  not  absolutely  the 
youngest,  there  was  a  difference  of  only  a  few  days  be- 
tween Yandell' s  age  and  my  own.  I  had  never  taught 
surgery,  although  I  had  long  studied  it,  and  was  thor- 
oughly acquainted  with  its  principles  and  practice.  I 
therefore  felt  no  misgivings  in  entering  ujDon  the  discharge 
of  the  duties  of  my  chair.  Although  I  stood  by  the  side  of 
able  men,  among  the  foremost  in  their  particular  branches 
in  their  day,  I  felt  certain  that  I  should  succeed.  My  ac- 
ceptance of  the  chair  had  been  a  conditional  one.  If,  at 
the  close  of  the  session,  I  did  not  fancy  my  prospects,  or 
failed  to  give  satisfaction,  I  could  return  to  Cincinnati, 
where  my  friends  were  ready  to  extend  to  me  a  cordial 
welcome.  I  determined,  however,  to  remain  and  to  iden- 
tify myself  with  the  destinies  of  the  school.  The  class 
during  the  first  winter  of  my  connection  with  it  numbered 
two  hundred  and  four.  It  was  subsequently  increased  to 
four  hundred  and  six,  the  largest  it  ever  had.  As  we  had 
no  rent  to  pay,  the  net  proceeds  of  each  chair  amounted 
for  quite  a  number  of  years  to  nearly  five  thousand  dol- 
lars annually. 

My  reception  by  the  medical  profession  of  Louisville  was 
anything  but  cordial.  The  medical  school  had  many  ene- 
mies. The  recent  ejection  of  Dr.  Flint  had  raised  an  active 
opposition,  through  which,  as  I  had  become  his  successor,  I 
largely  suffered,  although  I  was  personally  a  stranger  to 
them,  and  had  never  said  or  done  anything  against  any  of 
them.  As  soon  as  it  became  known  that  I  had  signified 
my  determination  to  remain  in  the  school,  as  I  did  about 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  91 

six  weeks  before  the  close  of  the  sessiou,  they  opened  their 
battery  upon  me  in  one  of  the  public  journals  of  the  city, 
fabricating  all  kinds  of  stories,  with  a  view  of  disgusting 
me  with  my  colleagues,  and  driving  me  from  the  place. 
Of  all  this  abuse  I  never  took  the  slightest  notice,  scarcely 
even  in  private,  and  the  consequence  was  that  they  gradu- 
ally ceased  their  opposition,  the  only  effect  of  which  was 
to  place  me  in  the  light  of  a  persecuted  man,  and  to  raise 
up  friends  for  me.  I  had  the  respect  and  confidence  of  the 
citizens,  the  good- will  of  all  my  colleagues,  and  the  affec- 
tion and  esteem  of  my  pupils.  My  ability  as  a  teacher  of 
surgery'  and  as  an  operator  was  conceded  long  before  the 
end  of  the  first  session ;  the  school  flourished  despite  the 
malice  and  detraction  of  its  foes  ;  and  my  success  as  a  prac- 
titioner was  a  foregone  conclusion.  I  felt,  like  Luther, 
that,  although  every  tile  upon  every  doctor's  house  was  a 
devil,  no  one  could  arrest  my  progress  or  do  me  any  serious 
injury.  I  was,  it  is  true,  placed  in  a  false  position  with 
many  good  citizens,  persons  who  were  unacquainted  with 
me,  and  who  therefore  formed  a  wrong  estimate  of  my 
character.  This,  however,  did  not  last  long.  My  efforts 
were  gradually  appreciated,  and  I  soon  triumphed  over 
those  designing  men,  not  a  few  of  whom  became  after- 
wards my  warm  personal  friends,  deploring  the  part  they 
had  taken  against  me. 

The  University  of  Louisville  was,  and  perhaps  still  is, 
governed  by  a  self-appointing  board  of  trustees.  The  city 
of  Louisville  gave  it  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars,  including  a  large  lot,  and  a  most  commodious 
edifice,  library,  chemical  apparatus,  and  anatomical  mu- 
seum. All  that  the  professors  had  to  do  was  to  deliver 
a  certain  number  of  lectures  during  every  session,  and 
to  pocket  the  proceeds  of  their  tickets.  Their  only  ex- 
penses were  janitor's  hire  and  coal  and  gas  bills.  In 
1849  ^^^  attempt  was  made  by  the  city  of  Louisville, 
through  the  Supreme  Court  of   Kentucky,   to  wrest  the 


93  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

government  of  the  school  from  the  hands  of  the  men 
who  had  managed  its  afifairs  so  well,  and  to  make  the 
board  elective  by  the  people.  It  was  at  this  particular 
crisis  that  I  received  the  offer  of  the  chair  of  Surgery 
in  the  University  of  the  city  of  New  York  ;  and,  in  doubt 
as  to  how  the  suit  might  terminate,  I  was  induced  to 
accept  the  offer  with  a  guarantee  of  four  thousand  dollars. 
Accordingly  I  passed  the  winter  of  i850-'5i  with  my  wife 
and  three  of  my  children  in  New  York.  The  winter  was 
decidedly  the  most  charming  I  have  ever  sj^ent.  My 
labors  were  comparatively  light.  I  gave  four  didactic 
lectures  and  held  two  clinics  a  week ;  and,  as  I  had  but 
little  private  practice,  I  gave  myself  up  to  sight-seeing,  the 
theatre  and  the  opera,  private  parties,  and  visits  to  the 
hospitals.  I  also  attended  a  course  of  lectures  on  the 
microscope  by  Mr.  Goadby,  an  English  gentleman,  and 
spent  much  of  my  leisure  upon  the  composition  of  my 
work  on  the  Urinary  Organs,  commenced  several  years 
previously,  and  completed  a  short  time  before  the  close  of 
the  lectures. 

My  colleagues  in  the  New  York  University  were  Gran- 
ville Sharp  Pattison,  John  W.  Draper,  Gunning  S.  Bedford, 
Martyn  Paine,  and  Elisha  Bartlett,  all  men  of  distinction 
and  of  more  or  less  ability.  Pattison  had  earned  a  world- 
wide reputation  as  a  brilliant  teacher  of  anatomy ;  Draper 
v/as  well-known  as  an  accomplished  chemist  and  physi- 
ologist, and  he  afterwards  achieved  immortal  fame  by 
his  work  on  The  Intellectual  Development  of  Europe. 
Bedford,  although  an  unpopular  man,  was  a  successful 
teacher  and  writer ;  Paine  was  celebrated  for  his  great 
learning,  his  dulness  as  a  lecturer,  his  peculiar  doctrines, 
and  his  dififuse  style  as  an  author  ;  and  Bartlett  enjoyed 
a  national  reputation  as  a  lecturer  and  a  graceful  writer. 
Mott  had  resigned  the  previous  spring,  and  I  succeeded 
to  his  chair.  I  was  then  forty-five  years  of  age,  full 
of  ambition,  and   determined   to  do  justice   to   my  posi- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  93 

tion.  Altlioiigh  the  class  numbered  upwards  of  three 
hundred  and  fifty,  and  my  ticket  was  twenty  dollars,  my 
colleagues,  to  meet  my  guarantee,  were  obliged  to  make  up 
for  me  nearly  two  thousand  dollars.  The  school,  more- 
over, was  unpopular  with  the  New  York  profession ;  the 
college  edifice  was  ill  adapted  to  its  object,  living  and  rents 
were  exorbitantly  high,  and,  in  short,  the  prospects  of  the 
institution  were  not  such  as,  in  my  opinion,  to  render  it 
desirable  to  continue  my  connection  with  it.  Long  before 
the  session  terminated  I  was  solicited  by  my  late  colleagues 
at  Louisville  to  resume  my  chair  in  its  University.  Dr. 
Paul  F.  Eve,  who  had  succeeded  me,  had  offered  to  re- 
sign in  my  favor  if  I  wished  to  return.  The  suit,  which 
had  been  pending  when  I  left,  had  in  the  mean  time  been 
decided  in  favor  of  the  board  of  trustees ;  and,  as  an  addi- 
tional inducement,  my  house  had  remained  unsold.  There 
was,  therefore,  no  obstacle  to  my  return.  Having  deliv- 
ered the  valedictory  at  the  Commencement,  soon  after  the 
close  of  the  session  I  left  New  York  on  my  return  to 
Louisville,  and  in  less  than  a  fortnight  tendered  my  resig- 
nation. Had  I  remained  in  New  York  I  have  no  doubt  I 
should  have  soon  obtained  a  large  practice,  but,  as  I  had 
left  a  better  school,  and  had  a  more  commanding  surgical 
practice  than  any  man  in  the  Southwest,  I  deemed  it 
pnident  to  retrace  my  steps,  although  I  have  sometimes 
regretted  that  I  did  not  remain  there.  Dr.  Alfred  C.  Post 
succeeded  me ;  and,  after  the  death  of  Pattison,  a  few 
years  later,  Mott  reentered  the  school  as  ex-President  of 
the  Faculty  and  lecturer  on  Operative  Surgery. 

On  my  way  from  New  York  to  Louisville  I  left  with 
Blanchard  &  Lea  of  Philadelphia  the  manuscript  of  a 
work  entitled  A  Practical  Treatise  on  the  Diseases,  Inju- 
ries and  Malformations  of  the  Urinary  Bladder,  the  Pros- 
tate Gland,  and  the  Urethra,  which  was  published  by 
that  firm  in  1851.  Such  a  work  had  long  been  needed, 
and  it  was  at  once  accepted  as  an  authority  iipon  the  sub- 


94 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


jects  of  which  it  treated.  The  only  monographs  on  these 
affections,  of  any  importance,  in  the  English  language,  were 
those  of  Sir  Benjamin  C.  Brodie  and  Mr.  William  Coulson, 
two  comparatively  meagre  productions,  deficient  in  com- 
pleteness and  unsatisfactory,  although  valuable,  especially 
the  first.  The  object  of  my  work,  as  expressed  in  the 
preface,  was  to  present,  in  a  systematic  and  connected 
form,  a  full  and  comprehensive  account  of  the  diseases  and 
injuries  of  the  organs  in  question.  The  materials  had  been 
long  accumulating  upon  my  hands,  and  not  less  than 
three  years  were  finally  spent  in  arranging  them  for  publi- 
cation. The  original  design  was  to  issue  a  separate  vol- 
ume of  plates,  of  the  size  of  nature,  as  a  companion  to  the 
book  ;  but  it  was  soon  discovered  that  this  would  so  much 
enhance  the  expense  as  to  place  the  work  beyond  the  reach 
of  many  of  those  for  whose  benefit  it  was  more  particularly 
prepared.  It  was  illustrated  by  upwards  of  one  hundred 
engravings  on  wood,  of  which  nearly  one-half  were  ex- 
pressly made  for  it.  A  second  edition,  greatly  enlarged 
and  improved,  was  issued  in  1855.  It  formed  a  closely- 
printed  octavo  volume  of  nine  hundred  and  twenty-five 
pages,  illustrated  by  one  hundred  and  eighty-four  wood- 
cuts, and  comprised,  along  with  my  personal  experience,  a 
digest  of  the  existing  state  of  the  science.  In  an  appendix 
of  twenty-nine  closely-printed  pages  is  the  first  and  only 
attempt  ever  made  by  any  writer,  as  far  as  I  am  aware,  to 
furnish  a  complete  account  of  the  prevalence  of  stone  in 
the  bladder  and  of  calculous  disorders  in  the  United  States, 
Canada,  Nova  Scotia,  Europe,  and  other  countries.  The 
preparation  involved  an  immense  amoimt  of  labor  in  the 
way  of  correspondence,  extending  through  a  period  of 
several  years,  and  yet  up  to  the  present  time  I  have  never 
seen  it  referred  to  by  any  writer,  either  American  or  Euro- 
pean. Such  is  reputation !  Such  the  reward  which  one 
obtains  for  one's  labors  !  A  new  edition  of  this  work  has 
just  been — September,  1876 — issued  under  the  able  editor- 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D. 


95 


ship  of  my  son,  Dr.  S.  W.  Gross.  He  has  rewritten  much 
of  the  work,  has  introduced  much  new  matter,  and  has 
thus  produced  a  valuable  treatise,  fully  up  to  the  existing 
state  of  the  science. 

My  work,  A  Practical  Treatise  on  Foreign  Bodies  in 
the  Air-Passages,  was  issued  from  the  press  of  Blanchard 
&  Lea  in  1854,  in  an  octavo  volume  of  four  hundred  and 
sixty-eight  pages,  illustrated  by  fifty-nine  engravings  on 
wood.  Its  composition  occupied  me  upwards  of  two  years. 
It  was  the  first  attempt  to  S}^stematize  our  knowledge  upon 
the  subject,  and  the  work  is  therefore,  strictly  speaking,  a 
pioneer  work.  My  original  intention  was  not  to  write  a 
book,  but  to  compose  a  short  monograph  for  some  medical 
journal.  I  had  not,  however,  proceeded  far  before  I  dis- 
covered that  I  had  formed  a  very  imperfect  idea  of  the 
enterprise,  and  that,  in  order  to  do  it  justice,  much  time 
and  study  would  be  required.  "If,"  says  the  preface,  "in 
the  providence  of  God,  the  work  shall  be  instrumental  in 
saving  the  life  of  one  human  being,  or  even  in  ameliorating 
the  sufferings  of  a  single  individual,  I  shall  feel  myself 
amply  remunerated  for  the  time  I  have  bestowed  upon  its 
composition.  If  there  be  any  situation  better  calculated 
than  another  to  awaken  our  sympathy,  it  is  when  we  see 
before  us  a  fellow-creature  who  is  threatened  every  instant 
with  destruction,  in  consequence  of  the  lodgment  of  a  for- 
eign body  in  the  air-passages,  without  the  ability  to  expel 
it  or  the  power  to  inflate  the  lungs.  It  was  this  reflection 
which  first  induced  me,  many  years  ago,  to  turn  my  atten- 
tion to  the  subject,  and  which  has  finally  impelled  me  to 
write  this  treatise."  This  work  has  now  been  long  out  of 
print.  A  new  edition,  much  abridged,  might  be  made  the 
basis  of  a  complete  treatise  on  the  surgical  affections  of  the 
air-passages.  * 

*  Dr.  Morell  Mackenzie,  the  highest  authority  on  the  subject  in  Europe,  in 
speaking  of  this  work  nearly  thirty  years  after  its  publication,  makes  the  follow- 
ing remarks:  "This  invaluable  essay  gives  full  reports  of  two  hundred  cases,  and 


96  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

Soon  after  I  had  gone  to  Louisville  I  instituted  a  series  of 
experiments  upon  dogs,  with  a  view  of  determining  more 
accurately  than  had  hitherto  been  done  the  nature  and 
treatment  of  wounds  of  the  intestines.  The  investigations 
were  commenced  in  the  spring  of  1841,  and  were  contin- 
ued, with  various  intermissions,  for  more  than  two  years. 
The  object  was,  in  the  first  place,  to  inquire  into  the  pro- 
cess employed  in  repairing  such  injuries ;  and  secondly, 
and  more  particularly,  to  test  the  value  of  the  more  impor- 
tant methods  of  treatment  recommended  by  surgeons  from 
the  time  of  Ransdohr,  a  practitioner  of  the  early  part  of 
the  last  century,  down  to  our  own.  The  experiments,  up- 
wards of  seventy  in  number,  were  performed  exclusively 
upon  dogs,  as  the  most  eligible  animals  that  could  be  pro- 
cured for  the  purpose.  The  results,  originally  published 
in  a  series  of  papers  in  the  Western  Journal  of  Medicine 
and  Surgery,  were  finally  embodied  in  an  octavo  volume  of 
two  hundred  and  twenty  pages,  illustrated  by  wood-cuts 
and  colored  engravings.  The  work  was  exhaustive,  and 
comprised  an  account  of  my  own  researches  and  a  sketch  of 
the  literature  of  the  subject.  It  was  favorably  noticed  in  a 
long  review  by  the  British  and  Foreign  Medico-Chirurgical 
Journal,  edited  by  Dr.  Forbes,  and  was  quoted  approvingly 
by  Mr.  Guthrie  in  his  work  on  Military  Surgery.  I  have 
never  seen  any  allusion  to  it  in  any  of  our  own  journals, 
or  by  any  of  our  own  writers. 

The  labor  spent  upon  these  experiments  was  very  great, 
and  the  expense  itself  was  not  inconsiderable,  as  I  was 
obliged  to  pay  for  nearly  all  the  dogs,  and  to  hire  a  man  to 
watch  and  feed  them.     My  colleagues  were  kind  enough 

is  so  complete  that  it  is  doubtful  whether  it  will  ever  be  improved  upon ;  indeed, 
the  excellent  articles  of  Bourdillat  and  Kuhn,  subsequently  published,  the  former 
based  on  three  hundred,  and  the  latter  on  three  hundred  and  seventy-four  cases,  only 
confirm  the  conclusions  previously  arrived  at  by  Gross." — Diseases  of  the  Throat 
and  Nose,  vol.  i.  p.  540.  Philadelphia,  1880.  It  maybe  added  that  Kiihn  plagia- 
rized much  of  the  material  of  this  work. — Editors. 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  97 

to  give  me  the  basement  rooms  in  the  college  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  the  poor  creatures.  The  experiments,  be- 
sides, involved  a  great  sacrifice  of  feeling  on  my  part.  I 
am  naturally  fond  of  dogs,  and  my  sympathies  were 
often  wrought  to  the  highest  pitch,  especially  when  I 
happened  to  get  hold  of  an  unusually  clever  specimen. 
Anaesthetics  had  not  yet  been  discovered,  and  I  was  there- 
fore obliged  to  inflict  severe  pain.  The  animal  while 
under  torture  would  often  look  into  my  eye,  as  if  to  say, 
"Is  it  possible  you  will  torment  me  in  this  way?  What 
have  I  done  to  deserve  all  this?  Have  I  done  you  any 
harm  ?"  I  have  sacrificed  for  this  purpose  nearly  one  hun- 
dred dogs,  and  if  I  were  not  thoroughly  satisfied  that  the 
objects  had  been  most  laudable,  I  should  consider  myself  a 
most  cruel,  heartless  man,  deser\'ing  of  the  severest  con- 
demnation. The  experiments  of  Jones  on  hemorrhage,  of 
Smith  and  Travers  on  wounds  of  the  intestines,  of  IMagen- 
die  and  Sir  Charles  Bell  on  the  functions  of  the  nerves, 
and  of  hundreds  of  physicians  upon  the  action  of  medi- 
cines upon  the  human  frame  ha\'e  shed  an  immense  flood 
of  light  upon  the  healing  art,  putting  to  flight  the  ill- 
timed  sentimentality  of  the  societies  for  the  prevention 
of  cruelty  to  animals,  which  have  made  so  nmch  ado 
about  this  matter. 

My  dogs  were  no  inconsiderable  source  of  annoyance  to 
several  of  my  colleagues.  The  rooms  in  which  they  were 
lodged  became  infested  with  fleas,  which,  when  the  air 
became  heated  in  autumn  by  the  stoves  in  the  college, 
skipped  about  in  every  direction.  ]\Iy  friend,  the  Pro- 
fessor of  Chemistr}',  was  especially  molested  by  them, 
being  obliged  to  appear  before  his  class  with  his  boots  over 
his  trousers,  to  prevent  them  from  effecting  an  entrance 
to  his  body.  I  do  not  know  whether,  like  Sir  Humphry 
Davy,  he  ever  boiled  any  to  determine  their  affinity  with 
the  lobster,  but  no  doubt  he  often  felt  the  effects  of 
their  probosces.  When  the  experiments  were  terminated 
I— 13 


98  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

the  worthy  dean,  a  venerable  gentleman  in  spectacles,  for- 
mally burnt  the  fleas  at  the  stake — another  evidence  of  the 
unfeeling  character  of  medical  men ! 

During  my  residence  at  Ivouisville  I  was  a  liberal  con- 
tributor to  the  Western  Journal  of  Medicine  and  Surgery, 
conducted  by  Drake  and  Yandell,  assisted,  for  a  time,  by 
Dr.  Thomas  W.  Colescott,  one  of  my  former  private  pupils. 
Among  my  earliest  papers  was  an  account  of  a  case  of  axil- 
lary aneurism,  for  which  I  had  tied  the  subclavian  artery. 
It  was  accompanied  by  a  statistical  notice  of  all  that  had 
been  done  in  regard  to  the  surgery  of  this  vessel  up  to  that 
period.  My  case  was  almost  unique,  only  one  similar  case 
having  occurred  previously.  Another  elaborate  paper  was 
published  in  1852  on  the  diseases  and  operations  on  the 
jaws.  I  also  wrote  occasional  reviews,  chiefly  of  an  ana- 
lytical character,  sometimes  critical  and  even  caustic.  As 
already  stated,  my  experiments  on  wounds  of  the  intes- 
tines were  published  in  this  journal ;  and  one  of  the  latest 
of  my  contributions  to  its  pages  was  A  Discourse  upon  the 
Life  and  Character  of  the  late  Dr.  Drake,  embracing 
nearly  one  hundred  pages. 

In  1 85 1  I  prepared  a  report  on  Kentucky  Surgery 
for  the  Kentucky  State  Medical  Society,  afterwards  pub- 
lished in  its  Transactions,  the  meeting  having  been  held 
at  Louisville.  It  embraced  nearly  two  hundred  pages, 
and  cost  me  a  great  deal  of  labor,  augmented  by  the 
large  correspondence  which  it  involved  with  the  physi- 
cians of  different  parts  of  the  State,  and  even  out  of  the 
State.  It  was  a  complete  history  of  Kentucky  surgery.  It 
contained  a  full  biography  of  Ephraim  McDowell,  of  Dan- 
ville, with  a  vindication  of  his  claims  as  the  originator 
of  Ovariotomy — claims  now  universally  acknowledged. 
McDowell  performed  his  first  operation  in  1809.  In  this 
report  is  also  contained  a  brief  account  of  a  girl,  named 
Amanda  McGuire,   of  Mississippi,  who  was   born  blind, 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  99 

and  whom,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,   I  restored  to  sight  by 
an  operation  for  cataract. 

In  1852  I  sent  to  the  Philadelphia  Medical  Examiner, 
edited  by  Dr.  Francis  Gumey  Smith  and  Dr.  John  B. 
Biddle,  a  short  account  of  the  use  of  adhesive  plaster  in 
the  treatment  of  fractures,  in  which  I  proved  that  I  had 
been  the  first  to  describe  the  method  in  my  work  on  the 
Diseases  of  the  Bones  and  Joints  issued  at  Philadelphia  in 
1830.  The  method  had  been  claimed  by  a  number  of 
physicians,  none  of  whom  were  entitled  to  it.  It  was 
first  practised  by  Dr.  Joseph  K.  Swift,  of  Easton,  my  early 
preceptor,  in  a  case  of  compound  fracture  of  the  leg  in  an 
Irishman,  whom  I  saw  several  times  during  his  protracted 
confinement.  I  was  so  much  pleased  with  the  plan  that 
I  briefly  described  it  in  my  work.  Swift  himself  never 
published  any  account  of  it. 

In  1853  I  sent  to  the  American  IMedical  Association,  at 
its  meeting  in  Richmond,  Virginia,  a  comprehensive  re- 
port on  the  Results  of  Surgical  Operations  in  Malignant 
Diseases.  It  comprised  one  hundred  and  thirty-seven  pages 
of  its  volume  of  Transactions,  and  embodied  the  experi- 
ence of  the  principal  surgeons  of  all  ages  and  countries. 
It  was  a  painstaking  production.  The  report  attracted 
wide  attention  among  medical  men. 

In  1856,  at  the  meeting  of  the  American  Medical  Asso- 
ciation at  Detroit,  I  read  a  report  on  the  Causes  which 
Retard  the  Progress  of  American  Medical  Literature,  cov- 
ering upwards  of  twenty  pages  of  the  Transactions.  This 
report  elicited  a  good  deal  of  discussion  at  the  time,  and 
was  aftersvards  variously  criticised  by  the  medical  press  of 
the  countr}'.  It  took  strong  grounds  against  the  editing 
of  foreign  works  by  American  writers,  and  animadverted 
in  severe  terms  upon  our  medical  journals  for  their  indis- 
criminate praise  of  European  reprints.  These  two  circum- 
stances, especially  the  latter,  made  the  paper  unpopular. 
Its   effects,    however,    were   excellent.       Since    then    few 


loo  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

English  works  have  been  reprinted  in  the  United  States 
under  the  auspices  of  American  editors  ;  and  the  American 
periodical  press  has  indulged  much  less  than  formerly  in 
toadyism,  at  one  time  such  a  prominent  feature  in  its 
conduct. 

In  the  winter  of  1856,  Dr.  T.  G.  Richardson  and  I 
founded  the  Louisville  Medical  Review,  a  bi-monthly 
journal  of  medicine  and  surgery,  the  first  number  of 
which  was  issued  on  the  ist  of  May  following.  I  had 
no  fancy  for  this  kind  of  work,  as  I  was  too  busily  engaged 
in  practice  to  attend  to  its  drudgery  ;  and  it  was  not  until 
after  repeated  solicitations  and  interviews  with  Dr.  Rich- 
ardson, who  had  been  a  favorite  pupil  of  mine,  and  not 
until  after  I  had  been  assured  that  I  should  be  relieved 
of  all  such  labor,  that  I  finally  consented  to  have  my 
name  placed  on  the  title-page  as  senior  editor.  The  first 
number  appeared  with  a  very  respectable  list  of  Western 
and  Southwestern  collaborators,  and  with  a  fair  prospect 
of  success,  inasmuch  as  the  Western  Journal  of  Medicine 
and  Surgery  had  for  some  time  been  discontinued,  on  ac- 
count of  the  decline  of  its  subscription  list.  It  opened 
with  an  excellent  review  by  Professor  Yandell  of  Mans- 
field's Life  of  Dr.  Drake,  accompanied  by  an  admirable 
engraving  of  that  physician.  The  second  article  was  from 
my  own  pen,  entitled  August  Gottlieb  Richter :  his  Works 
and  his  Cotemporaries — a  retrospective  review,  in  which 
I  introduced  an  account  of  Desault,  Benjamin  Bell  and  An- 
tonio Scarpa,  all  great  men  in  their  day,  whose  lives  and 
services  marked  an  important  epoch  in  the  professional 
history  of  their  respective  countries.  The  article  caused 
me  much  labor  and  research,  although  it  occupies  only 
thirty-five  pages  of  the  journal.  I  believe  it  to  be  one 
of  the  best  things  I  have  ever  written,  if  "best"  be  at  all 
applicable  to  anything  I  have  done  in  this  way. 

The  July  number  contained  the  report  of  a  case — one  of 
the   most   remarkable  on  record — of  hypertrophy  of  the 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  loi 

gums,  in  a  lad  ten  years  of  age,  whom  I  relieved  by  a 
surgical  operation,  and  whose  history  was  widely  dissemi- 
nated by  the  medical  press,  as  well  as  embodied  in  the 
current  works  on  surgery  and  on  dental  science. 

Only  six  numbers  of  the  Louisville  Medical  Review 
were  published  ;  for,  by  a  strange  coincidence,  soon  after 
the  appearance  of  the  first  number,  both  editors  received 
and  accepted  appointments  in  Philadelphia :  Dr.  Richard- 
son the  chair  of  Anatomy  in  the  Pennsylvania  College,  and 
I  that  of  Surgery  in  my  Alma  Mater  as  the  successor  of  the 
late  Dr.  Thomas  D.  Mutter. 

During  my  residence  in  Kentucky  I  contributed  several 
papers  to  the  American  Journal  of  the  Medical  Sciences, 
edited  by  Dr.  Isaac  Hays.  One  of  these  was  the  report 
of  a  case,  full  of  interest,  of  gunshot  wound  of  the  neck, 
involving  the  spinal  cord  and  subclavian  arter}',  and  caus- 
ing death  by  convulsions. 

During  the  first  winter  of  my  connection  with  the  Uni- 
versity of  Louisville  I  boarded  with  my  family  at  the 
Louisville  Hotel,  uncertain  whether  I  should  continue  in 
the  school  or  return  at  the  close  of  the  session  to  Cincin- 
nati. After  that  question  was  finally  disposed  of  I  took  a 
house,  and  in  the  month  of  April  removed  to  my  new  field 
of  labor,  opening  at  once  an  office  and  becoming  a  candi- 
date for  business.  The  proceeds  during  the  first  year  of 
my  practice  fell  somewhat  short  of  two  thousand  dollars ; 
but  as  my  family  was  small  and  inexpensive,  this  sum,  to- 
gether with  my  college  proceeds,  was  more  than  sufficient 
for  my  immediate  wants.  My  practice  rapidly  increased  ; 
patients  with  all  kinds  of  diseases  flocked  to  me  from  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi ;  I  was  often  sent 
for  to  go  a  considerable  distance  from  home  ;  I  performed 
numerous  siirgical  operations,  and  did  a  large  consultation 
business.  I  had  also  at  this  time  constantly  about  me  pri- 
vate pupils ;  and  Dr.  Cobb  and  I  delivered  regularly,  for  a 
number  of  years,  spring  courses  of  lectures  on  surgical 


I02  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

anatomy  and  operative  surgery.  My  income  thus  became 
quite  large,  and,  as  a  consequence,  I  determined  to  build  for 
myself  a  large  and  commodious  dwelling  in  a  pleasant  part 
of  the  city.  My  house  was  a  double  one,  fifty  feet  front,  with 
two  offices,  a  fine  garden,  and  a  small  conservatory,  which 
furnished  my  family  with  flowers  from  one  year's  end  to 
the  other.  The  garden  was  a  source  of  constant  happiness 
to  me.  Although  I  employed  a  gardener,  I  spent  much 
of  my  leisure — not  much  at  any  time — in  embellishing  it, 
often  transplanting  flowers  and  weeding  the  beds  with  my 
own  hands.  It  was  delightful  to  watch  the  flowers,  to 
individualize,  and  even,  so  to  speak,  to  pet  them.  These 
were  indeed  happy,  thrice  happy,  moments,  full  of  inno- 
cence and  bliss,  thoroughly  shared  by  my  dear  wife  and 
most  of  my  children,  who  were  equally  fond  of  flowers. 
One  of  the  greatest  sources  of  our  distress  on  leaving  Ken- 
tucky was  that  we  could  not  carry  with  us  our  garden  and 
conservatory.  The  summer  before  we  left  a  Lamarcque 
rose  had  literally  spread  over  the  entire  conservatory,  and 
had  borne  upwards  of  twelve  hundred  blossoms.  The 
house  was  elegantly  furnished,  and  was  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  residences  in  Louisville.  My  office  door  opened 
upon  nearly  an  entire  square  of  shrubbery  and  trees  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street,  so  that  I  lived,  as  it  were, 
in  a  forest,  redolent  in  summer  of  the  fragrance  of 
flowers  and  musical  with  the  song  of  birds.  Was  this  a 
foretaste  of  Paradise,  or  was  it  only  an  illusion?  When 
I  left  Louisville,  in  1856,  I  parted  with  this  property  for 
four  thousand  dollars  less  than  it  had  cost  me.  Our  house 
was  for  many  years  the  abode  of  an  enlarged  and  generous 
hospitality.  Distinguished  strangers,  professional  and  non- 
professional, were  welcome  guests  at  our  table. 

I  remained  at  Louisville  for  sixteen  years — from  Octo- 
ber, 1840,  to  September,  1856 — and  became  thus  closely 
identified  with  the  people  and  the  interests  and  prosperity 
of  the  city,  as  well  as  the  pride  and  glory  of  the  State  of 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  103 

Kentucky.  I  had,  with  my  seven  years'  residence  at  Cin- 
cinnati, become,  in  fact,  a  Southwestern  man,  in  feeling 
and  in  habit. 

General  regret  was  expressed,  both  by  the  medical  profes- 
sion and  the  citizens  of  Louisville,  when  it  was  understood 
that  I  had  determined  to  remove  to  Philadelphia,  and  this 
feeling  finally  culminated  in  a  ball,  given  to  my  family  and 
myself  at  the  Gait  House,  the  evening  before  our  departure. 
I  received  numerous  letters  from  medical  men  in  various 
parts  of  the  Southwest  remonstrating  against  my  removal, 
on  the  ground  that,  as  I  had  earned  my  reputation  in 
the  Southwest,  that  section  had  a  claim  on  me  which 
no  light  considerations  should  ignore.  I  had,  however, 
made  up  my  mind  to  go,  and  no  argument  could  have 
induced  me  to  remain.  The  university  was  in  a  declining 
condition ;  it  had  lost  some  of  its  very  best  and  most  dis- 
tinguished men ;  some  of  the  men  that  remained  were 
weak  and  vacillating  in  their  conduct ;  and  the  men  that 
were  elected  to  the  vacant  chairs  were  distasteful  to  me. 
In  short,  I  saw  nothing  but  vexation  and  annoyance 
in  the  future ;  and  when  the  position  of  Professor  of 
Surgery  in  my  Alma  Mater  was  unanimously  tendered 
to  me,  both  by  the  Board  of  Trustees  and  Faculty,  I  did 
not  feel  at  liberty  to  decline  it,  although  it  was  a  sore 
trial  both  to  me  and  to  my  family  to  break  up  our  pleasant 
relations  and  attachments  in  Kentucky.  The  sad  events 
that  followed  during  the  war,  arraying  families  against 
families  and  friends  against  friends,  dividing  the  medical 
profession,  and  introducing  the  spirit  of  discord  into  all 
ranks  and  conditions  of  society,  proved  that  I  had  made 
a  wise  decision.  The  sixteen  years  which  I  passed  in 
Kentucky  were,  in  the  main,  among  the  happiest  of  my 
life,  notwithstanding  the  hostility  which  I  had  to  en- 
counter at  the  beginning — an  opposition  alike  unjust  and, 
for  a  time,  extremely  annoying  to  me  and  to  my  family. 

It  may  not  be  out  of  place  at  this  point  to  make  a  brief 


I04 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


record  of  my  impressions  of  some  of  the  distinguished  men 
whom  I  met  during  my  residence  in  Kentucky.  Notices 
of  others  will  be  found  in  my  diary  and  elsewhere. 

In  February,  1838,  occurred  one  of  the  most  famous 
duels  of  modern  times,  and  one  which  gave  rise  to  the 
most  intense  excitement  throughout  the  country  on  ac- 
count of  its  political  character.  The  circumstances  were 
the  more  surprising,  because  it  was  clearly  shown,  even 
after  the  exchange  of  shots  by  the  combatants,  that 
no  difficulty  or  personal  animosity  had  ever  existed  be- 
tween the  parties — William  J.  Graves  and  Jonathan  Cilley, 
both  members  of  Congress,  the  one  from  Kentucky,  and 
the  other  from  Maine.  The  immediate  cause  of  the  duel 
was  a  letter  addressed  by  J.  Watson  Webb,  editor  of  the 
New  York  Courier  and  Inquirer,  at  that  time  one  of  the 
most  prominent  and  influential  papers  in  the  United  States, 
to  Mr.  Cilley,  on  account  of  words  uttered  during  debate, 
reflecting  upon  the  character  of  Mr.  Webb  in  reference  to 
matters  relating  to  the  United  States  Bank.  This  letter, 
the  delivery  of  which  was  intrusted  to  Mr.  Graves,  Mr. 
Cilley  declined  to  receive,  on  the  ground  that  he  did  not 
wish  to  be  drawn  into  any  controversy  with  a  public  jour- 
nalist. Under  these  circumstances  Mr.  Graves  considered 
it  his  duty  to  challenge  Mr.  Cilley.  The  parties  met  at 
three  o'clock,  on  the  24th  of  February,  near  Washington 
City,  close  to  the  boundary  line  of  Maryland  and  the  Dis- 
trict of  Columbia,  accompanied  by  their  seconds  and  their 
surgeons,  Henry  A.  Wise,  of  Virginia,  and  Dr.  Foltz, 
U.  S.  N.,  acting  for  Mr.  Graves,  and  General  George  W. 
Jones,  of  Wisconsin,  and  Dr.  Duncan,  of  Ohio,  for  Mr. 
Cilley.  Upon  the  field  were  John  J.  Crittenden  and 
Mr.  Menefee,  of  Kentucky,  as  the  friends  of  Mr.  Graves, 
and  Mr.  Bynum,  of  North  Carolina,  and  Captain  James 
W.  Schaumburg,  U.  S.  A.,  as  the  friends  of  Mr.  Cilley. 
The  weapons  were  rifles.  The  distance  was  ninety-two 
yards.     The  choice  of  position  fell  to  the  lot  of  Mr.  Wise, 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  105 

while  Mr.  Jones  had  the  giving  of  the  word.  Three 
shots  were  exchanged,  at  the  last  of  which  Cilley  fell 
mortally  wounded,  and  in  a  few  minutes  expired.  It  is 
due  to  the  parties  concerned  in  this  transaction,  now  all 
deceased,  to  state  that  ineffectual  efforts  were  made  after 
the  first  and  second  shots  to  arrest  further  firing.  Mr. 
Ciiley,  after  what  he  had  pointedly  said  to  Mr.  Webb  and 
Mr.  Graves  in  his  early  correspondence  with  these  gen- 
tlemen, could  not  recede  from  the  stand  taken  by  him. 
As  I  have  said,  he  declined  to  receive  ]\Ir.  Graves's 
letter  because  of  his  desire  to  avoid  any  controversy  with 
Mr.  Webb,  and  in  making  this  statement  he  neither 
affirmed  nor  denied  anything  respecting  that  gentleman's 
character,  nor  intended  to  show  any  disrespect  for  Mr. 
Graves.  The  attempts  to  adjust  the  duel  during  its 
progress  hinged  solely  upon  these  latter  points,  the  second 
of  Mr.  Graves  insisting  that  the  fight  should  proceed, 
unless  Mr.  Cilley  should  enter  a  direct  disclaimer  of  any 
personal  exceptions  to  Mr.  Webb  as  a  gentleman  and  a 
man  of  honor,  or  an  indirect  one  by  placing  the  refusal  to 
receive  the  note  of  Mr.  Graves  upon  the  ground  of  privi- 
lege. This  Mr.  Cilley  had  twice  refused  to  do,  and  had 
twice  exposed  himself  to  the  fire  of  his  antagonist.  The 
result  of  the  third  shot  has  already  been  stated. 

The  history  of  duelling  does  not  show  a  sadder  blot 
upon  its  bloody  escutcheon  than  this  transaction.  Here 
were  two  men  in  the  prime  of  life,  of  generous  natures 
and  noble  bearing,  members  of  the  national  councils,  be- 
tween whom  no  unkindly  feeling  had  ever  at  any  time  ex- 
isted, fighting  for  a  principle,  to  satisfy  what  has  been 
called  the  "code  of  honor" — a  combat  in  which  one  is 
mortally  wounded. 

When  this  duel  took  place  I  knew  nothing  personally 

of  Mr.  Graves,  but  within  a  few  years  after,  during  my 

residence  in  Louisville,  I  made  his  acquaintance,  became 

his  family  physician,  was  for  a  time  a  near  neighbor  of 

I— 14 


io6  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

his,  and  attended  him  during  his  last  terrible  illness.  It 
affords  me  great  pleasure  to  bear  testimony  to  his  private 
character.  A  more  devoted  husband  or  a  kinder  father 
never  existed.  He  was  a  very  handsome  man :  tall, 
erect,  with  a  clear  brown  eye  and  a  manly  countenance, 
with  an  enthusiastic  nature,  and  a  chivalrous  disposi- 
tion ;  a  warm  friend,  and  a  true,  patriotic  citizen.  Bred 
to  the  law,  he  early  abandoned  the  bar  for  politics,  in 
which  he  rendered  most  important  service  to  the  Whig 
party,  of  which  he  was  for  a  number  of  years  one  of  the 
acknowledged  leaders  in  Kentucky.  In  the  Presidential 
canvass  in  1844  he  took  a  most  active  part,  often  driving 
in  his  sulky  from  fifty  to  seventy  miles  in  the  twenty- 
four  hours  to  meet  engagements  in  different  sections 
of  his  State.  Such  labor,  combined  with  the  excitement 
incident  to  a  great  campaign,  and  with  stump-speaking, 
of  which  he  was  an  admirable  representative,  ever  ready, 
full  of  enthusiasm,  and  full  of  his  subject,  could  not  fail  to 
tell  fearfully  upon  a  constitution  already  seriously  under- 
mined, and  it  is  therefore  not  surprising  that  he  event- 
ually succumbed  under  its  effects.  His  last  illness  was 
protracted.  I  have,  in  the  course  of  a  long  professional 
life,  witnessed  much  suffering,  but  never,  in  any  indi- 
vidual, such  a  frightful  concentration  of  it.  His  disease 
was  epithelioma,  or  cancer,  of  the  bladder,  which  com- 
pelled him  to  keep  his  bed  for  three  months,  during  which 
he  daily  used  large  quantities  of  morphia  and  chloroform 
to  mitigate  his  torture.  Indeed,  during  the  last  few  weeks 
of  his  life  he  was  kept  almost  continually  in  a  state  of 
partial  insensibility  from  the  effects  of  the  latter  medi- 
cine. Notwithstanding  his  frightful  sufferings,  no  groan  or 
murmur  of  complaint  ever  escaped  his  lips.  He  was  ema- 
ciated to  a  skeleton.  His  death  was  a  great  loss  to  his 
family,  his  friends,  and  his  party. 

Within  a  few  years  after  the  death  of  Mr.  Graves  a  state- 
ment went  the  rounds  of  the  public  prints  that  during  his 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  107 

last  illness  he  had  labored,  in  addition  to  his  other  suffer- 
ings, under  remorse  of  conscience  on  account  of  his  duel 
with  Cilley,  The  assertion,  I  need  hardly  say,  was  without 
the  shadow  of  truth.  Living  within  two  doors  of  him,  I 
saw  him  frequently  three,  four,  five,  and  even  six  times  in 
the  twenty-four  hours,  and  never,  on  any  occasion,  either 
when  his  mind  was  perfectly  clear,  or  clouded  from  the 
effects  of  suffering,  or  the  stupefying  influence  of  morphia 
and  chloroform,  did  he  ever  refer,  directly  or  indirectly, 
to  the  occurrence.  He  had  long  ago  made  up  his  mind 
that  the  combat  was  one  of  necessity,  and  that  he  could 
not,  as  the  "code"  was  then  interpreted,  have  avoided  it 
withoiit  a  sacrifice  of  honor,  whicli,  to  a  man  of  his  gal- 
lant nature,  is  always  more  precious  than  life  itself  I 
took  an  early  opportunity  to  contradict  this  statement, 
believing  it  was  my  duty  to  do  it  as  the  physician  and 
personal  friend  of  jVIr.  Graves  and  his  excellent  family. 

Among  the  many  noteworthy  families  of  Kentucky 
during  my  residence  in  that  State  there  was  none  more 
remarkable  than  that  which  produced  the  three  Breck- 
inridges — Robert  J.,  John,  and  William  C,  all  men  of 
force  of  character,  and  eminent  preachers,  in  charge  of 
refined  and  cultured  congregations.  Robert  J.,  the  eldest, 
was  long  known  as  the  fighting  parson,  from  his  bitter 
controversies  and  aggressive  disposition ;  but  he  was  un- 
doubtedly the  most  able  and  talented  of  the  three.  All 
were  good  speakers,  all  preached  long  sermons,  and  all 
were  strongly  wedded  to  the  Presbyterian  faith,  in  which 
their  mother,  a  woman  of  uncommon  intellect,  had  reared 
them.  Robert  long  held  the  supreme  power  in  the  Presby- 
terian Church,  not  only  in  Kentucky,  but  in  the  great  West, 
and  broke  many  a  lance  with  the  strong  men  of  other  de- 
nominations. In  his  personal  appearance  he  had  few  of 
the  prominent  characteristics  of  the  staid  and  dignified 
clergyman.  When  I  last  saw  him,  in  1853,  at  the  Agricul- 
tural  Fair  at  Lexington,  he  had  on  nankeen  trousers,   a 


lo8  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

white  vest,  and  a  spotted  necktie,  and  I  was  told  that  this 
was  his  ordinary  summer  wear.  It  was  certainly  a  very 
sensible  dress,  but  it  was  so  unclerical  as  to  attract  gen- 
eral attention,  and  became  therefore  a  subject  of  unfavor- 
able comment 

Dr.  John  Breckinridge  was  directly  the  opposite  of 
Robert  in  disposition  and  habits.  He  was  an  amiable 
man,  with  a  deep  sense  of  modesty,  and  it  is  questionable 
whether  he  ever  had  an  enemy.  He  enjoyed  a  high 
reputation  as  a  preacher,  and  the  love  and  admiration  of 
all  who  knew  him.  He  died  comparatively  young,  the 
victim  of  pulmonary  phthisis,  for  which,  during  his  latter 
days,  I  attended  him  for  a  short  time  in  consultation.  His 
first  wife  was  a  daughter  of  Dr.  Miller,  a  distinguished 
professor  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton.  An 
anecdote  has  been  related  of  Dr.  Breckinridge  which  ad- 
mirably illustrates  his  sly  humor.  A  clergyman,  named 
Sparrow,  one  evening  occupied  his  pulpit.  When  the 
congregation  was  dismissed  a  lady  inquired  of  the  Doctor 
who  that  preacher  was.  "  That  man's  name  is  Sparrow," 
was  the  reply,  ' '  one  of  those  birds  spoken  of  in  the  Bible, 
of  which  two  were  sold  for  a  farthing. ' ' 

Dr.  William  C.  Breckinridge  was  for  many  years  my 
near  neighbor.  He  was  popular  as  a  preacher,  and  was 
greatly  respected  as  a  courteous  and  well-bred  gentleman. 
He  was  for  a  long  time  pastor  of  the  Second  Presbyterian 
Church  of  Louisville,  and  a  short  time  before  the  Rebel- 
lion was  called  to  the  presidency  of  the  University  of  Mis- 
sissippi, from  which,  on  the  eve  of  the  war,  he  removed, 
if  I  mistake  not,  to  Missouri,  where  he  soon  afterwards 
died. 

I  cannot  close  my  brief  sketch  of  this  family  without 
saying  a  few  words  about  the  mother,  from  whom  the 
sons  evidently,  in  great  degree,  if  not  entirely,  inher- 
ited their  characteristic  mental  features.  Mrs.  Breckin- 
ridge was   a  woman   of   extraordinary   powers   of  mind, 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  109 

with  the  determination,  courage,  and  energy-  of  a  Coesar. 
In  1 84 1,  while  in  attendance  upon  her  son,  Dr.  John 
Breckinridge,  I  saw  her  for  the  first  time.  She  had  come 
all  the  Avay  from  Lexington,  her  old  home,  in  a  dilapi- 
dated family  carriage,  drawn  by  two  horses,  after  a 
fatiguing  journey  of  nearly  four  days.  She  was  then  far 
advanced  in  life,  very  fragile  looking,  and  nearly  blind  in 
both  eyes  from  cataract.  She  told  me  she  was  naturally 
ver}'  timid,  and  had  never,  in  consequence,  been  able  to 
trust  herself  upon  a  steamboat  or  railway  car  ;  and  yet 
this  little  woman  could  be  as  brave  as  a  lioness.  Her 
husband  had  been  the  owner  of  many  slaves,  and  being 
from  home  on  a  certain  occasion,  several  of  them  deter- 
mined to  kill  their  mistress,  rob  the  house,  and  flee  the 
country.  There  was  no  white  man  at  the  time  on  the 
premises,  and  but  for  the  fidelity  of  a  young  negro  girl, 
who  had  become  aware  of  the  plot,  the  scheme  would 
undoubtedly  have  been  carried  into  effect.  The  moment 
Mrs.  Breckinridge  heard  of  it  she  confronted  the  ring- 
leader, and  told  him  if  he  did  not  behave  himself  and  go 
about  his  business  she  would  instantly  shoot  him.  Her 
determined  look  and  her  readiness  to  defend  herself  at 
once  arrested  the  diabolical  plot,  which,  if  she  had  been 
less  courageous,  would  undoubtedly  have  cost  her  her  life. 
With  the  history  of  General  John  C.  Breckinridge,  a 
cousin  of  the  three  divines,  ever}'body  is  familiar.  Tall 
and  well  formed  in  person,  and  elegant  in  manner,  I  shall 
never  forget  the  grace  and  dignity  with  which,  as  Vice- 
President  during  Mr.  Buchanan's  administration,  he  pre- 
sided over  the  Senate.  Mr.  Breckinridge  died  in  May, 
1875,  after  a  long  and  severe  illness,  caused  by  an  abscess 
of  the  liver,  which  in  time  discharged  its  contents  wholly 
through  the  lungs.  When  I  saw  him,  at  the  request  of 
some  of  his  friends,  eight  or  ten  days  before  his  death, 
with  the  family  physician,  Dr.  J.  R.  Desha,  Dr.  Sayre,  of 
New  York,  and  Dr.  Luke  P.  Blackburn,  recently  Governor 


no  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

of  Kentucky,  he  was  excessively  emaciated,  and  laboring 
under  terrible  parox}'sms  of  dyspnoea,  momentarily  threat- 
ening life,  and  painful  to  witness.  The  quantity  of  matter 
expectorated  in  the  twenty-four  hours  varied,  on  an  aver- 
age, from  a  pint  to  a  pint  and  a  half,  and  its  expulsion  was 
attended  with  great  fatigue  and  copious  perspiration.  It 
was  agreed,  in  consultation,  as  a  last  resort,  to  make  an 
outlet,  if  possible,  for  this  fluid,  so  that  it  might  drain  off 
as  fast  as  it  formed,  and  for  this  purpose  a  trocar,  in  the 
absence  of  an  aspirator,  v/as  pushed  through  the  ninth  in- 
tercostal space  to  the  full  length  of  the  instrument  without 
reaching  the  cavity  of  the  abscess.  As  the  operation  was 
followed  by  considerable  exhaustion,  it  was  deemed  best 
not  to  repeat  it,  and  matters  consequently  remained  m 
statu  quo.  Our  conduct  was  harshly  criticised  by  some 
of  the  public  journals,  but  to  their  strictures  I  made  no 
reply,  conscious  that  we  had  done  our  duty.  General 
Breckinridge  succumbed  a  few  days  afterwards,  completely 
worn  out  by  his  protracted  suffering.  It  is  to  be  regretted 
that  owing  to  the  wife's  unconquerable  objections  a  post- 
mortem examination  was  not  permitted. 

In  1849,  broken  down  by  overwork  and  malarial  disease, 
I  visited  the  Harrodsburg  Springs  on  the  Kentucky  River, 
then  a  fashionable  resort  for  invalids,  kept  by  Dr.  Graham, 
and  now  used  as  a  government  asylum  for  disabled  soldiers. 
While  here  I  saw  a  great  deal  of  INIr.  Poindexter,  of  Mis- 
sissippi, an  ex-Governor  of  the  State  and  a  United  States 
ex-Senator,  an  astute  lawyer,  and  a  shrewd  politician, 
familiar  with  all  the  tricks  and  devices  of  party,  with  an 
insatiable  ambition  for  the  spoils  of  office,  a  behemoth 
that  did  not  hesitate  to  devour  every  beast  that  in  any  wise 
obstructed  his  path.  He  was  much  broken  in  health  and 
spirits  by  a  disease,  for  which  he  had  been  treated  at  a 
high  fee  by  a  Louisville  charlatan.  I  refer  to  the  case 
in  this  manner,  because  it  was  at  that  time  known  to 
every  man  and  woman  in  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi. 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  m 

For  a  while  it  was  difficult  to  say  which  was  the  more 
famous,  the  patient  or  the  physician. 

Poindexter  was  a  man  of  great  ability,  distinguished 
for  his  rhetorical  powers,  his  sarcasm  in  debate,  and  the 
bitterness  of  his  language.  He  was  very  aggressive — a 
man  of  whom  everybody  was  afraid.  Such  a  man  has 
few  friends,  and  when  he  can  no  longer  be  of  use  he  is 
dropped  by  every  one.  This  was  the  case  with  the  ex- 
Governor  of  INIississippi  at  the  time  here  referred  to.  He 
had  outlived  his  usefulness ;  his  party  had  no  longer  any 
need  of  his  services ;  and  his  political  friends  had  gradu- 
ally, one  after  another,  abandoned  him.  He  keenly  felt 
the  peculiarity  of  his  position.  He  was  morose,  irritable, 
even  irascible.  Every  one  pitied  him,  and  still  more  his 
wife,  a  lovely  woman,  many  years  his  junior.  In  his 
happier  moods,  when  comparatively  exempt  from  suffer- 
ing, he  was  a  most  agreeable  companion,  with  ready  wit, 
an  abundant  amount  of  anecdote,  and  remarkable  conver- 
sational powers.  He  had  seen  much  of  the  world  and  of 
the  good  as  well  as  the  evil  side  of  nature.  Circum- 
stances, the  outgrowth  of  great  talent,  and  of  much  per- 
sonal magnetism  in  his  5'ounger  and  palmier  days,  had 
brought  him  in  contact  with  the  great  men  and  women 
of  the  nation,  and  made  him  a  tower  of  strength  with  the 
Democratic  party.  He  was  now  old,  and  the  recollections 
of  his  former  triumphs  served  but  as  a  poor  compensation 
for  his  present  forlorn  and  pitiable  situation.  He  ably  and 
successfully  defended  General  Jackson  in  Congress,  but 
they  afterwards  became  bitter  enemies,  and  this  circum- 
stance, added  to  a  duel,  in  which  he  killed  his  adversar>% 
served  to  estrange  him  still  further  from  the  world.  His 
chief  solace,  while  at  Harrodsburg,  was  "Boaston"  and 
scolding.  After  I  left  the  Springs  I  saw  Poindexter  no 
more.     He  died  at  an  advanced  age  in  1853. 

In  this  year  I  was  visited  by  a  gentleman  who  had  long 
occupied  a  distinguished  position  in  the  world  of  letters 


112  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

and  of  politics.  I  refer  to  Baron  Friedricli  Ludwig  Georg 
Von  Raumer,  of  Berlin,  the  celebrated  historian,  politi- 
cian, and  statesman.  He  brought  me  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion from  a  friend  in  Philadelphia.  It  was  the  Baron's 
second  visit  to  this  country,  the  first  having  been  made 
in  1843,  on  which  he  soon  after  published  a  book — 
America  and  the  American  People — v/hich  was  translated 
by  Mr.  Turner.  The  object  of  his  present  visit  was  to 
make  himself  more  intimately  acquainted  with  the  nature 
of  our  institutions  and  the  character  of  our  people,  and 
he  brought  with  him  his  son,  a  quiet,  reticent  young  man, 
in  order  not  only  that  he  might  afford  him  the  benefit  of 
his  experience  in  his  travels,  but  have  a  constant  com- 
panion and  watchful  friend  in  case  of  disease  or  accident. 
The  Baron  called  upon  me  early  in  the  day,  and  learning 
that  his  stay  in  Louisville  was  limited  I  invited  some 
friends  to  meet  him  in  the  evening.  As  the  hours  ad- 
vanced my  wife  said  to  him:  "Baron,  you  must  be  a 
relation  of  my  father's  family ;  my  father  was  a  German, 
and  I  often  heard  him  and  my  mother  talk  of  the  Von 
Raumers  ;  at  school  I  was  always  called  the  '  Baroness, ' 
as  all  my  schoolmates  were  familiar  with  my  father's  his- 
tory, and  thus,  to  tease  me,  gave  me  this  nickname,  I 
was  then  very  young,  and  as  my  father  died  at  an  early 
age  at  sea  on  his  way  to  Europe,  and  my  mother  soon 
after  followed  him  to  the  grave,  I  have  never  been  able  to 
trace  the  connection  to  a  satisfactory  conclusion.  Your 
visit  is  a  curious  coincidence,  and  perhaps  you  can  give 
me  some  particulars."  The  Baron  was  evidently  discon- 
certed ;  he  blushed,  became  embarrassed,  and  soon  changed 
the  subject.  He  called  the  next  morning  to  take  leave  of 
us,  but  did  not  once  refer  to  the  previous  evening's  con- 
versation. In  1868,  during  our  visit  to  Berlin,  we  drove 
to  the  son's  house,  but  he  was  spending  the  summer  at 
his  country  residence.  Thus  ended  our  acquaintance. 
What    gave   point   to   the  Baron's  embarrassment  at  my 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  113 

house  was  the  fact  that  my  wife's  father  was  a  collateral 
heir  of  the  Von  Raumer  estate,  and  was  on  his  way  to 
look  after  his  interests  when  he  was  accidentally  lost  at  sea. 
To  institute  formal  research  after  intricate  titles  would  have 
been  a  useless  procedure  after  the  lapse  of  so  many  years. 

Von  Raumer  was  a  profoundly  educated  man,  of  rare 
ability,  industr}'-,  and  perseverance.  He  w^as  a  copious 
writer,  chiefly  of  historical  and  political  works,  and  was 
for  many  years  Professor  in  the  University  of  Berlin ;  he 
was  also  a  member  of  the  German  Parliament,  and  was 
at  one  time  ambassador  at  Paris.  In  1853  ^^  retired  from 
active  life,  and  devoted  the  evening  of  his  days  to  study, 
travel,  and  recreation.  He  was  a  m^an  of  small  stature,  an 
excellent  linguist,  and  an  agreeable  conversationalist. 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  1853  that  Mr.  James  P.  Espy, 
widely  known  as  the  "Storm  King,"  presented  to  me  a 
letter  of  introduction  from  a  gentleman  who  was  then 
a  colleague  of  mine — Dr.  Drake,  of  Cincinnati.  He  was 
at  the  time  a  resident  of  Columbus,  Ohio,  and  had 
come  to  Louisville  on  matters  of  business,  but  chiefly 
with  a  view  of  making  some  meteorological  observa- 
tions, a  subject  which  had  long  deeply  occupied  his  atten- 
tion. I,  of  course,  extended  to  him  a  wanii  welcome, 
and  he  did  me  the  honor  the  following  morning  to  break- 
fast with  me.  His  conversation  was  animated,  and  was 
directed  largely  to  the  explanation  of  his  famous  theory 
of  storms,  which,  while  it  had  many  adherents,  had  also 
some  very  powerful  opponents.  Being  a  man  of  positive 
temperament,  he  did  not  express  himself  in  the  mildest 
terms  in  regard  to  those  who  differed  from  him  in  opinion. 
He  had  made  several  appeals  to  Congress  for  pecuniary 
aid  to  carry  his  theories  into  effect,  but  without  success, 
and  this  disappointment  was  a  great,  if  not  a  constant, 
source  of  annoyance  to  him,  serving  to  imbitter  the  even- 
ing of  his  life.  He  made  himself  so  agreeable  to  Mrs. 
Gross  and  myself  on  the  occasion  here  referred  to  that  we 
I— 15 


114 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


were  hardly  aware  when  we  rose  from  the  table  that  two 
hours  had  passed  since  we  had  taken  our  seats,  and  when 
our  distinguished  guest  rose  to  take  his  leave  we  both  felt 
as  if  we  were  parting  with  an  old  acquaintance.  Mr. 
Espy  was  a  remarkably  handsome  man,  tall,  erect,  well- 
proportioned,  with  a  large  head  and  a  fine  face,  expressive 
of  intelligence,  and  he  had  about  him  all  the  magnetism 
and  characteristics  of  a  well-bred  gentleman.  Bom  in 
1785,  in  Western  Pennsylvania,  he  was  descended  from 
a  Huguenot  family,  with  some  of  the  sturdy  blood  of 
the  Scotch  Covenanters,  and,  like  most  men  of  genius, 
rose  by  dint  of  his  own  exertions  from  obscurity  into  fame. 
Owing  to  his  father's  poverty  his  early  education  was 
neglected,  but  this  defect  was  gradually  overcome  by  in- 
dustry and  perseverance ;  and,  while  still  quite  young,  he 
became  the  principal  of  a  classical  academy  at  Cumber- 
land, Llaryland,  showing  that  he  had  made  good  progress 
in  learning. 

Mr.  Espy  was  an  enthusiast.  Whatever  had  possession 
of  his  mJnd  was  not  easily  dislodged  by  outside  considera- 
tions. He  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  idea  that  rain  could 
be  induced  by  keeping  up  large  fires,  scattered  over  large 
surfaces,  and  he  even  thought  it  possible  by  this  means  to 
maintain  the  navigation  of  the  upper  Ohio  River  during 
the  dry  season.  Although  Congress  refused  to  give  him 
money  to  carry  out  his  wishes,  he  received,  through  the 
agency  of  the  late  Alexander  H.  Stephens,  of  Georgia,  a 
warm  personal  friend,  a  government  appointment  as  mete- 
orological observer,  an  office  from  which  emanated  the  first 
telegraphic  weather  reports  ever  made.  Hence  Espy  may 
justly  be  regarded  as  the  father  of  the  system  now  in  such 
successful  operation  in  all  parts  of  the  civilized  world. 
His  death  occurred  at  Cincinnati,  in  January,  i860,  at  the 
age  of  seventy-five  years.  Besides  his  work  on  storms, 
Mr.  Espy  published  a  treatise  on  the  Will,  a  metaphys- 
ical study,  and  numerous  essays  on  various  subjects. 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  115 

My  recollections  of  Mr.  John  J.  Crittenden  are  very 
vivid ;  as  one  of  our  leading  statesmen  I  had,  of  course, 
heard  and  read  much  of  him  before  I  ever  saw  him,  and 
when,  after  my  removal  to  Kentucky  in  1840,  I  met  with 
him  for  the  first  time,  he  captivated  me  by  his  pleas- 
ant, genial,  and  frank  manner.  During  my  residence  in 
Louisville  I  saw  him  frequently,  either  at  the  house  of  his 
son-in-law,  Chapman  Coleman,  an  eminent  Louisville 
merchant,  at  my  house,  or  at  the  houses  of  other  gentle- 
men, and  when  or  wherever  I  found  him  he  was  always 
the  centre  of  attraction.  He  was  generally  beloved  and  ad- 
mired, not  so  much  because  he  was  a  great  man  as  because 
of  his  many  amiable  qualities,  his  fine  conversational 
powers,  his  sly  humor,  and  his  large  fund  of  anecdotes. 
He  had  been  so  long  in  public  life,  and  had  been  brought 
in  contact  with  so  many  distinguished  people,  that  he 
was  a  sort  of  encyclopedia  of  all  public  and  interna- 
tional measures  for  half  a  century  during  one  of  the  most 
stirring  and  interesting  periods  of  our  history*.  Bom  in 
1786,  in  Woodford  County,  Kentucky,  he  was,  like  many 
of  our  great  men,  the  son  of  a  farmer,  with  no  early  educa- 
tional advantages.  At  that  time  Kentucky  was  a  new 
State,  an  offspring  of  Virginia ;  society  was  in  a  crude 
condition,  with  little  of  the  culture  and  refinement  which 
have  since  characterized  it,  and,  as  Mr.  Crittenden  himself 
told  me  one  day  in  my  parlor,  he  was  fifteen  years  old 
before  he  ever  put  a  hat  on  his  head.  A  man  of  force  of 
character  can  accomplish  much  by  his  own  efforts,  if  he 
feels  so  inclined,  and  Mr.  Crittenden  was  more  indebted 
to  himself  for  his  education  than  to  any  aid  derived  from 
the  schoolmaster.  Kentucky  at  that  period  had  no  aca- 
demies or  colleges  of  any  note.  Dr.  Marshall,  a  distin- 
guished physician,  brother  of  Chief  Justice  Marshall,  and 
father  of  the  celebrated  Tom  Marshall,  was  a  famous 
teacher  in  that  day,  giving  instruction  in  the  classics, 
in   mathematics,   and   in   other   branches   of  knowledge, 


ii6  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

to  fit  young  men  for  college  and  the  study  of  the  various 
professions ;  but  I  am  not  aware  that  Mr.  Crittenden 
availed  himself  of  these  advantages.  However  this  may 
be,  he  studied  law  at  an  early  age,  was  admitted  to  the 
bar,  and  soon  achieved  a  high  reputation  as  an  astute  and 
accomplished  jurist.  His  popularity  also  rapidly  increased, 
and  the  consequence  was  that  he  was  soon  called  into 
public  life  ;  a  life  to  which  he  always  aspired  as  a  youth, 
and  which  he  afterwards  followed  with  such  distinguished 
success.  From  the  State  Legislature,  Mr.  Crittenden 
passed  into  Congress,  thence  to  the  Senate,  and  thence 
into  General  Taylor's  cabinet  as  Attorney-General  of  the 
United  States.  When  Mr.  Fillmore  succeeded  to  the  Pres- 
idency, Mr.  Crittenden  was  retained  in  office.  In  1848  he 
was  elected  Governor  of  Kentucky.  During  his  connec- 
tion with  the  Senate  Mr.  Crittenden  was  the  associate  of 
Clay,  Webster,  Calhoun,  Hayne,  Benton,  and  other  prom- 
inent men,  who  added  lustre  to  their  age  and  country. 
While  a  member  of  this  body  he  became  involved  in  the 
Graves  and  Cilley  duel,  which  has  been  already  mentioned 
in  a  former  page,  and  he  was  unjustly  blamed  in  conse- 
quence. The  Kentucky  Senator  used  all  his  influence 
to  prevent  a  hostile  meeting.  Public  sentiment  was 
afterwards  much  mollified  in  regard  to  Mr.  Crittenden's 
association  with  this  miserable  affair;  and  the  same 
is  true  of  his  connection  long  afterward  with  the  Matt 
Ward  trial,  detailed  in  another  page.  Here  again  the  cir- 
cumstances were  such  as  absolutely  to  force  Mr.  Crittenden 
into  the  arena.  As  the  lifelong  and  intimate  friend  of  the 
young  man's  parents  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  refuse 
to  serve  as  one  of  his  counsel.  The  public  is  not  always 
just,  and  it  certainly  in  this  case  arrayed  itself  on  the 
wrong  side. 

Mr.  Crittenden  was  an  able  orator,  and  some  of  his  efforts 
in  the  Senate  and  on  the  stump  are  fine  specimens  of 
eloquence.     His  manner  as  a  public  speaker,  however,  was 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  117 

slow,  unimpassioned,  and  unmarked  by  those  higher  flashes 
which  characterized  the  orator>^  of  Calhoun,  Hayne,  Tom 
Marshall,  and  other  Southern  debaters.  His  address  on 
the  Life  and  Character  of  Henr}'  Clay,  delivered  at  Louis- 
ville in  the  presence  of  an  overflowing  audience,  the 
elite  of  both  sexes,  gathered  from  all  parts  of  the  countr}', 
soon  after  that  great  man's  death,  was,  if  not  a  failure, 
a  feeble  performance  not  at  all  in  harmony  with  the  occa- 
sion, or  his  own  well-known  ability.  The  day  was  uncom- 
monly hot,  the  building  in  which  the  meeting  was  held 
was  not  well  adapted  to  the  object,  and  Mr.  Crittenden's 
delivery'  was  without  its  usual  force  and  animation.  j\Iany 
of  his  hearers  went  away  disappointed ;  and  the  report  of 
the  speech  in  the  papers  was  not  at  all  calculated  to 
answer  the  expectation  of  the  public,  or  of  the  orator's 
many  friends.  This  was,  if  I  mistake  not,  Mr.  Critten- 
den's last  public  efibrt. 

Mr.  Crittenden  was  thrice  married,  each  time  to  a  beau- 
tiful woman.  His  last  wife  was  the  widow  of  General 
Ashley,  of  Missouri,  who  was  celebrated  as  a  great  belle, 
with  wonderful  powers  of  fascination,  but  without  any  spe- 
cial accomplishments.  She  survived  Mr.  Crittenden  only 
a  few  years.  His  sons — George  and  Thomas — were  well- 
known  officers  during  the  war  of  the  Rebellion,  the  former 
on  the  Confederate,  the  latter  on  the  Union  side.  A  life 
of  Mr.  Crittenden,  in  two  volumes,  was  published  some 
years  after  his  death  by  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Chapman 
Coleman,  a  woman  of  remarkable  intellect,  with  many  of 
the  traits  of  her  father  and  much  of  his  force  of  character. 

Mr.  Crittenden  was  an  excellent  talker,  with  a  large 
store  of  interesting  and  instructive  information.  He  was 
fond  of  society,  and  was  never  so  happy  as  when  he  was 
surrounded  by  his  family  and  intimate  friends,  engaged 
in  telling  anecdotes,  and  in  discussing  public  affairs,  in 
which  he  always  took  a  lively  interest.  His  habits  were 
sedentary.      He   was    nearly  six   feet   in   height,  with    a 


Ii8  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

handsome  face,  a  good  head,  and  expressive  hazel  eyes. 
He  was  fond  of  quoting  passages  from  the  Bible  and  the 
Pilgrim's  Progress,  the  latter  of  which,  as  he  repeatedly 
told  me,  he  considered  one  of  the  most  remarkable  books 
ever  written,  and  such,  unquestionably,  is  the  fact.  Mr. 
Crittenden  died  in  July,  1863. 

Mr.  Fillmore's  term  of  office  expired  on  the  4th  of  March, 
1853,  ^^^  ^^^^  ^^^  ^^^^  following  month  he  accompanied  Mr. 
Crittenden  to  Louisville,  where  they  were  the  guests  for  a 
short  time  of  Mr.  Chapman  Coleman,  Mr.  Crittenden's 
son-in-law.  At  a  reception  given  in  the  evening  of  the 
second  day  after  their  arrival,  at  which  all  the  prominent 
citizens  of  Louisville  were  present,  the  two  distinguished 
gentlemen  were  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes.  Mr.  Fillmore, 
until  then  a  stranger  in  Kentucky,  attracted  special  atten- 
tion. Tall,  well  proportioned,  with  a  fine  countenance, 
a  large,  well-formed  head,  animated  by  beautiful  blue  eyes, 
and  the  whole  set  off  by  the  blandest  smile  and  the  most 
courtly  and  winsome  manners,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
he  won  all  hearts  and  elicited  the  warmest  admiration. 
When,  in  1855,  he  was  presented  to  Queen  Victoria,  her 
majesty  declared  that  he  was  the  handsomest  and  most 
elegant  American  gentleman  she  had  ever  seen.  In  his 
youth  he  worked  on  his  father's  farm,  and  at  the  age  of 
fifteen  was  apprenticed  to  a  wool-carder  and  cloth-dresser. 
With  a  very  limited  school-education,  he  began  the  study 
of  the  law  at  nineteen,  was  in  due  time  admitted  to  the 
bar,  and  rapidly  rose  to  distinction  as  a  politician  and 
statesman,  from  one  important  position  to  another,  until, 
on  the  death  of  General  Taylor,  he  succeeded  to  the  high- 
est office  attainable  on  this  continent.  He  passed  through 
all  the  grades  of  office  with  a  spotless  private  character. 

I  have  many  agreeable  recollections  of  Mr.  James  Guth- 
rie, one  of  Louisville's  noblest  citizens  during  my  resi- 
dence in  that  city,  and  one  who  took  as  much  interest 
in  its  rise  and  prosperity  as  any  man  in  it.     Born  in  Ken- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D,  119 

tiicky  in  1792,  he  was  educated  at  the  Bardstown  Acad- 
emy, a  celebrated  Catholic  seminar}',  and  was  early  admit- 
ted to  the  Louisville  bar,  of  which  he  soon  became  a  dis- 
tinguished member.  He  represented  the  city  repeatedly 
in  the  State  Legislature,  and  served  it  in  various  rela- 
tions in  developing  its  resources.  The  noble  municipal 
buildings,  erected  at  a  great  cost,  owe  their  existence 
mainly  to  his  influence  and  enterprise.  He  took  a  special 
interest  in  the  establishment  of  the  University  of  Louis- 
ville, of  the  medical  department  of  which  he  was  for  many 
years  President  of  the  Board  of  Trustees,  having  succeeded 
Judge  Rowan  in  that  office.  My  connection  with  that  in- 
stitution brought  me  into  frequent  relation  with  ]Mr.  Guth- 
rie, and  I  always  found  him  ready  to  listen  attentively  to 
any  suggestions  I  had  to  offer  in  regard  to  the  management 
of  that  school,  at  one  time  by  far  the  most  celebrated  of  its 
kind  in  the  Southwest.  When  General  Pierce,  in  1853, 
was  elevated  to  the  Presidency,  Mr.  Guthrie  was  tendered 
the  portfolio  of  the  Treasury,  and  a  better  choice  could 
not  have  been  made.  The  Secretary  remained  in  office 
until  the  expiration  of  Pierce's  administration,  when  he 
returned  to  his  old  home,  and  spent  most  of  his  time  in 
retirem.ent  and  in  attention  to  his  private  affairs,  which 
had  suffered  more  or  less  during  his  absence.  In  1865 
he  was  elected  United  States  Senator,  an  office  which 
he  would  have  adorned  by  his  learning,  by  his  large 
experience  as  a  legislator,  and  by  his  dignified  and 
gentlemanly  bearing,  but  which  ill  health,  contracted 
during  his  residence  at  Washington,  compelled  him  to 
resign  before  he  entered  upon  the  discharge  of  its  du- 
ties. Death  overtook  him  in  1869,  at  the  age  of  seventy- 
six  years. 

Guthrie  was  a  man  of  fine  proportions,  upwards  of  six 
feet  in  height,  with  a  handsome  face  and  a  noble  fore- 
head. He  was  slow  in  his  movements,  slow  of  speech, 
deliberate   in   all   his   acts.      His   character   was   massive 


I20  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

rather  than  brilliant,  and  he  took  hold  of  whatever  he 
had  to  do  with  a  giant's  grip.  I  had  great  respect  for  him 
as  a  gentleman  and  as  an  upright  citizen.  The  last  time  I 
ever  met  with  him  socially  was  the  evening  before  he  went 
to  Washington,  which  he  spent  in  my  study  stretched  out 
at  full  length  upon  the  sofa. 

Among  the  more  notable  persons  at  my  old  home  was 
Judge  John  Rowan,  for  seven  years  my  opposite  neighbor, 
remarkable  for  his  intelligence,  dignity  of  character,  and 
urbane  and  gentle  manners.  He  was  a  gentleman  of  the 
old  school.  Familiarly  he  was  known  as  the  ' '  Old  Mon- 
arch." Even  Mrs.  Rowan,  an  amiable  woman,  loved  so 
to  call  him.  The  judge  had  seen  much  of  public  life, 
had  served  with  distinction  on  the  bench,  and  had  been 
a  member  of  the  United  States  Senate  in  the  days  of 
its  greatest  renown.  His  house  in  his  later  years  was  the 
resort  of  men  of  distinction  irrespective  of  party,  creed, 
or  occupation.  Among  others  he  was  visited  by  his  old 
friend,  Martin  Van  Buren,  soon  after  that  gentleman  re- 
tired from  the  Presidential  office.  For  nearly  one  entire 
week  the  "  Monarch"  and  the  "Sage  of  Kinderhook"  were 
hobnobbing  together,  talking  much  over  olden  times, 
as  well  as  over  the  present  and  future,  and  receiving 
calls  from  the  more  distinguished  citizens  of  the  place. 
No  public  or  private  receptions  were  tendered  Mr.  Van 
Buren,  and  I  do  not  now  recollect  that  he  accepted  any  in- 
vitations to  dinner.  His  visit  was  strictly  private.  He 
was  a  well-preserv^ed,  handsome-looking  man,  with  all  the 
airs  and  graces  of  the  well-bred  gentleman.  The  character 
of  Martin  Van  Buren  for  political  intrigue  is  well  known. 
He  was  a  great  pet  of  General  Jackson,  and  lost  his  election 
for  a  second  Presidential  term  on  account  of  his  short- 
sighted opposition  to  the  admission  of  Texas  as  a  State 
into  the  Union.  For  once  the  "Sage of  Kinderhook"  had 
lost  his  head.  His  defeat  was  the  end  of  his  political  ca- 
reer.    One  can  appreciate  after  such  a  blunder  the  pithy 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  I2i 

remark  of  "Prince  John" — "Why,  father,  the  most  dis- 
tinguishing feature  of  your  administration  is  that  you  are 
my  father. ' ' 

By  a  curious  combination  of  circumstances  it  happened 
that  I  saw  very  little  of  Henry  Clay  during  my  residence 
in  Kentucky ;  he  rarely  visited  Louisville,  and  when  he 
did,  he  seldom  remained  more  than  a  day,  often  not  so 
long.  His  oldest  son,  Henry,  was  for  many  years  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Louisville  bar,  and  I  purchased  from  him  a  part 
of  the  lot  on  which  I  built  my  house  on  Walnut  Street 
He  was  not  endowed  with  intellect  of  a  high  order,  and 
was  killed  at  the  head  of  his  column  in  one  of  the  battles 
of  Mexico.  His  bravery  was  undoubted.  His  illus- 
trious father  I  visited  in  September,  1852,  during  the 
meeting  of  the  Agricultural  Fair  at  Lexington.  Accom- 
panied by  my  elder  son  and  several  friends,  I  drove  to 
Ashland,  and  had  the  good  fortune  to  find  Mr.  Clay  at 
home.  Ushered  into  the  parlor,  it  was  only  a  few  minutes 
before  he  made  his  appearance.  He  received  us  very  cor- 
dially, and  we  soon  found  ourselves  engaged  in  an  animated 
conversation,  the  chief  topic  of  which  was  the  state  of  the 
country,  which  was  then  already  foreshadowing  the  inter- 
necine war  of  1861.  Before  we  finished  our  visit,  which 
lasted  about  half  an  hour,  we  had  discussed  the  Roman  re- 
public and  the  natural  tendency  of  states  and  empires  to 
fall  into  decay  after  a  longer  or  shorter  existence,  from  the 
lawlessness  and  misgovernment  of  the  people.  Mr.  Clay 
was  not  well,  but  he  talked  with  great  freedom  and 
vivacity,  like  a  man  who  was  fully  impressed  with  the 
truth  of  what  he  was  saying.  The  day  before  this  inter- 
view we  saw  him  at  the  reception-room  of  the  Agri- 
cultural Fair,  with  his  daughter-in-law,  Mrs.  James  Clay, 
leaning  on  his  arm.  He  was  about  to  enter,  when  the 
superintendent,  decorated  with  his  badge  of  office,  for  some 
reason  refused  him  admission.  An  act  so  rude  as  this,  an 
insult  offered  to  so  aged  and  distinguished  a  citizen,  gave 
I— 16 


122  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

rise  to  not  a  few  imprecations  among  the  bystanders.  It 
was  simply  an  outrage. 

I  saw  Mr.  Clay  for  the  last  time  a  year  or  two  after  this 
at  Louisville,  during  the  trial  of  the  heirs  of  Miss  Polly 
Bullitt,  a  maiden  lady,  whose  will,  involving  a  consider- 
able estate,  was  disputed  by  Mr.  Guthrie's  children.  The 
ground  of  the  suit  was  the  alleged  mental  incompetency 
of  the  testatrix  to  make  a  will.  The  case  was  long  in  dis- 
pute, and  attracted  more  than  usual  attention.  Eminent 
counsel  were  employed  on  both  sides.  Mr.  Clay  appeared 
for  the  defence.  He  spoke  for  several  days.  Many  of  the 
most  distinguished  ladies  were  in  attendance.  I  well 
recollect  Mr.  Clay's  appearance.  He  stood  as  erect  as  a 
flag-pole,  spoke  with  great  deliberation  and  distinctness, 
and  held  spellbound  the  attention  of  the  judge,  bar,  and 
jury,  as  well  as  the  crowded  court-room.  His  speech  was 
a  plain  performance,  devoid  of  any  of  the  flowers  of  rhet- 
oric. There  was  no  attempt  at  display.  He  was  attired 
on  the  occasion  in  a  neat  black  suit,  with  a  dress  coat  and 
a  white  cravat.  The  case  was  decided,  if  I  mistake  not, 
in  favor  of  the  validity  of  the  will. 

The  admirers  of  Mr.  Clay  cannot  but  regret  the  motives 
which  induced  him  to  spend  his  last  days  at  Washington. 
It  was  a  pitiful  ambition  which  prompted  him  to  forsake 
his  family  and  his  old  friends  to  die  at  the  capital  of  the 
country  in  order  that  he  might  have  the  eclat  of  a  public 
funeral.  Broken  down  in  health  and  spirits  when  he  left 
his  old  home,  unable  to  travel  except  by  slow  stages,  he 
knew  perfectly  well  that  his  days  were  numbered,  and  that 
he  could  never  again  see  Kentucky.  How  much  more  dig- 
nified would  it  have  been  if  he  had  breathed  out  his  once 
precious  life  in  the  bosom  of  his  family  and  in  the  arms  of 
the  woman  who  for  upwards  of  half  a  century  had  watched 
over  his  interests,  reared  his  children  with  a  fond  mother's 
care,  loved  him  with  a  true  woman's  love,  and  followed 
him,  wherever  he  was,  with  her  prayers  and  her  blessings  ! 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  123 

I  have  ver}'  pleasant  recollections  of  many  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Louisville  bar,  which  has  always  been  distin- 
guished for  its  talents,  learning,  and  gentlemanly  bearing. 
I  have  already  spoken  of  Mr.  Guthrie.  For  Judge  Pirtle, 
who  was  for  years  one  of  its  leaders  and  a  most  amiable 
man,  I  had  a  warm  regard ;  and  Judge  Ballard,  who  died 
suddenly  and  unexpectedly  some  years  ago,  was  long  my 
warm  personal  friend.  He  had  a  well-stored  legal  mind, 
and  was  one  of  the  most  conscientious  men  I  have  ever 
known — a  man  in  whom  there  was  no  guile,  and  who 
was  as  incapable  of  bribery  as  Sir  Thomas  More  or 
the  purest  man  that  ever  lived.  Judge  Bullock  was  an- 
other man  for  whom  I  always  had  a  warm  personal  regard. 
He  is  still  living,  at  an  advanced  age,  to  adorn  the  bar  and 
to  witness  the  beneficent  effects  of  his  philanthropic  labors. 
An  upright  judge  and  an  honest  man,  he  enjoys  the  re- 
spect, love,  and  admiration  of  his  fellow-citizens,  and  the 
good-will  of  all  who  know  him.  Since  I  left  Louisville  its 
bar  has  been  strengthened  by  the  addition  of  numerous 
men,  many  of  them  still  quite  young,  who  have  added  in- 
fluence and  respectability  to  its  ranks.  The  Louisville 
Law  School  has  been  a  power  in  swelling  the  corps  of  edu- 
cated lawyers  in  Kentucky  and  in  the  surrounding  States, 
Originally  in  the  hands  of  Loughborough,  Pirtle,  and  Bul- 
lock, it  is  justly  regarded  as  an  institution  of  great  value, 
as  it  is  certainly  one  of  great  respectability. 

The  clergy  of  Louisville  in  my  day  were  a  pleasant 
set  of  men,  not  all  of  them  noted,  however,  for  their 
talent  or  learning.  The  most  able  of  them,  in  point  of 
erudition,  was  Bishop,  afterwards  Archbishop,  Spalding, 
elsewhere  referred  to,  a  genial,  pleasant  gentleman,  who 
rose  to  great  eminence  in  the  Catholic  Church.  Among 
the  Protestant  denominations  I  recall  with  much  affection 
and  respect  the  names  of  Jackson,  Humphrey,  Sehon,  Craik, 
Stewart,  Robinson,  and  Bishop  Smith,  who  still  survives, 
at  a  great  age,  to  honor  his  Master,  and  to  look  back  with 


124  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  SAMUEL  D.   GROSS,  M.D. 

complacency  on  the  remarkable  growth  of  the  Episcopal 
Church  in  this  country  since  he  first  put  on  the  clerical 
robe,  upwards  of  sixty  years  ago.  All  these  men  were  my 
personal  friends. 

The  society  of  Kentucky  has  always  been  noted  for  its 
intelligence,  culture,  refinement,  and  hospitality.  Many 
of  the  most  eminent  men  and  women  of  the  country 
have  either  been  natives  or  residents  of  the  State.  There 
is  no  State  in  the  Union  which  has  produced  so  many 
beautiful  women  or  so  many  tall  and  handsome  men. 
Lexington  was  at  one  time  called  the  "Athens  of  the 
West"  on  account  of  its  elegant  and  brilliant  society. 
Its  bar,  still  respectable,  was  then  generally  acknow- 
ledged to  be  one  of  the  ablest  and  most  intellectual  in  the 
country.  It  could  boast  of  a  Wickliffe,  a  Woolley,  a  Bled- 
soe, a  Menefee,  a  Breckinridge,  a  Robertson,  and  other 
great  names.  Holley  was  at  the  head  of  its  university ; 
and  its  medical  department,  with  Caldwell,  Dudley,  and 
Yandell  in  its  Faculty,  was  at  the  height  of  its  prosperity. 


CHAPTER    V. 

REMOVAL  TO  PHILADELPHIA — PROFESSOR  OF  SURGERY  IN  THE  JEFFERSON  MED- 
ICAL COLLEGE — PORTION  OF  MY  LIBRARY  BURNED — INTRODUCTORY  LECTURE 
— SECESSION  OF  STUDENTS — WAR  EXPERIENCE — MEDICO-CHIRURGICAL  REVIEW 
— FOUND  PATHOLOGICAL  SOCIETY — SYSTEM  OF  SURGERY — COMPENSATION — 
NOTICES  OF  WORK — MANUAL  OF  MILITARY  SURGERY — LIVF^  OF  EMINENT 
AMERICAN  PHYSICIANS  AND  SURGEONS  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY — 
PRESIDENT    OF    AMERICAN     MEDICAL     ASSOCIATION — DISCOURSE — ADDRESS     ON 

SYPHILIS  AT  DETROIT ADDRESS  ON  BLOODLETTING  AT  LOUISVILLE LECTURES 

ON  AMERICAN  MEDICAL  LITERATURE  FROM  1 776  TO  1876 — CONTRIBUTIONS 
TO  MEDICAL  AND  SURGICAL  LITERATURE — MEMBERSHIP  IN  MEDICAL  SO- 
CIETIES— FOUND  PHILADELPHIA  ACADEMY  OF  SURGERY  AND  AMERICAN  SUR- 
GICAL ASSOCIATION. 

In  1855  I  was  solicited  by  a  member  of  the  Board  of 
Trustees  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania  to  allow  my 
name  to  be  placed  before  that  body  in  connection  with  the 
chair  of  Surger}^,  which  had  been  recently  vacated  by  the 
resignation  of  Dr.  William  Gibson.  I  was  assured  in  the 
most  positive  manner  by  my  friend,  a  gentleman  of  influ- 
ence and  great  respectability,  Dr.  Rene  La  Roche,  that 
the  entire  medical  Faculty,  with  one  exception — Dr. 
George  B.  Wood,  who  soon  after  retired  from  the  school — 
had  pledged  themselves  to  support  me,  and  to  use  their 
best  endeavors  to  insure  my  election.  Various  reasons, 
however,  induced  me  to  decline  the  offer ;  foremost  among 
which  was  the  fact  that  the  income  of  the  department  was 
not  equal  to  that  of  the  University  of  Louisville,  and  the 
next  was  the  circumstance  that,  if  defeated,  I  should  be 
subjected  to  more  or  less  mortification.  When  it  became 
known  that  I  was  inexorable,  I  wrote,  at  the  request  of 
Dr.  D.  Hayes  Agnew,  a  warm  testimonial  in  favor  of  Dr. 
Henr>'  H.  Smith,  who  was  finally  elected. 

125 


126  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

My  election  to  the  vacant  chair  in  the  Jefferson  Medical 
College  was  unanimous,  as  had  been  my  recommendation 
by  the  Faculty.  One  of  the  members,  the  late  Dr.  Robley 
Dunglison,  with  whom  I  had  for  some  time  been  person- 
ally acquainted,  had  previously  addressed  me  upon  the  sub- 
ject, as  had  also  Dr.  La  Roche,  asking  me  whether,  in  the 
event  of  my  election,  I  would  accept  the  chair.  The  elec- 
tion came  off  sooner  than  I  had  expected,  and  I  was  therefore 
taken  somewhat  by  surprise.  The  truth  is,  I  had  a  good 
deal  of  hesitation  about  abandoning  my  residence  at  Louis- 
ville, the  more  especially  as  my  family  were  very  averse  to 
going  away  ;  and  hence,  before  I  finally  accepted,  I  visited 
Philadelphia,  to  ascertain  more  fully  the  precise  state  of 
affairs  in  reference  to  the  school.  I  soon  found  that  it  was 
in  an  eminently  flourishing  condition,  and  I  therefore  un- 
hesitatingly accepted  the  chair  which  had  been  so  flatter- 
ingly tendered  to  me.  My  election  came  off  early  in  INIay. 
I  remained  at  Louisville  until  late  in  September,  when, 
having  disposed  of  my  house,  lot,  and  furniture,  I  removed 
with  my  family  to  my  new  home,  not  without  many  sighs, 
although  without  the  slightest  misgivings  in  regard  to  the 
future. 

During  the  interval  between  my  appointment  and  my 
removal  to  Philadelphia  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  rent  Dr. 
Mutter's  house  and  furniture,  so  that  on  our  arrival  we 
were  not  obliged  to  go  to  a  hotel,  everything  being  in  readi- 
ness for  our  accommodation.  In  fact,  even  dinner  was 
awaiting  us,  and,  to  add  to  the  gratification  of  the  occasion, 
Dr.  Dunglison  had  kindly  sent  us  a  bottle  of  champagne. 
I  will  here  state  that  I  paid  Dr.  Miitter  two  thousand  dollars 
annually  for  his  house  and  the  use  of  his  furniture,  and 
that  at  the  end  of  the  second  year  I  purchased  the  house 
and  lot  for  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  cash.  As  the 
building  was  in  bad  condition,  I  was  obliged  to  spend 
nearly  two  thousand  dollars  to  put  it  in  repair.  The  offices 
especially  showed  marked  dilapidation.     Everything  was 


,      SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  127 

old  and  shabby  ;  the  walls  had  to  be  repapered,  the  ceilings 
cleaned,  new  bookcases  erected,  and  new  chandeliers  hung. 
Mutter's  library,  left  in  the  offices  during  the  time  I  occu- 
pied the  house  as  a  rented  one,  was  ver}"  small,  not  exceed- 
ing seven  or  eight  hundred  volumes,  and  of  these  many 
were  obsolete.  ]\Iy  own  librar}^,  when  I  left  Kentucky, 
consisted  of  nearly  four  thousand  volumes,  of  which  almost 
half  the  number  were  left  behind  in  boxes,  deposited  for 
safe  keeping  in  the  University  of  Louisville.  As  I  was 
about  to  go  before  my  class  on  the  24th  of  December, 
during  the  first  winter  of  my  residence  in  Philadelphia, 
the  janitor  handed  me  a  telegram.  It  was  from  the  janitor 
of  the  University  of  Louisville,  and  ran  thus:  "The  Uni- 
versity was  totally  consumed  by  fire  early  this  morning, 
including  all  your  books  and  minerals."  I  need  not  say 
that  this  intelligence  greatly  shocked  me,  and  that,  as  I 
proceeded  with  my  lecture,  the  whole  scene  repeatedly  rose 
up  before  me,  rendering  me  nervous  and  uncomfortable.  I 
regretted  the  disaster  so  much  the  more  because  it  involved 
the  loss  of  the  finest  and  most  extensive  collection  of  books 
on  the  genito-urinary  organs  which  had  ever  been  brought 
together  in  this  country.  Many  of  the  books  were  from  the 
librar}'  of  the  late  John  C.  Crosse,  the  eminent  lithotomist, 
of  Norwich,  England,  and  can  never  be  replaced.  Besides, 
the  books  were  not  insured.  As  the  situation  of  the  Uni- 
versity was  completely  isolated,  such  a  step  had  not  been 
deemed  necessary.  The  cause  of  the  fire  was  a  defect  in 
one  of  the  flues,  a  cause  which  has  occasioned  the  destruc- 
tion of  a  vast  deal  of  property  throughout  the  world. 

My  Inaugural  Address  was  delivered  to  a  crowded  am- 
phitheatre of  students,  medical  men,  and  citizens.  It  was 
well  received,  and  was  afterwards  published  by  the  class. 
The  class  that  winter  was  very  large,  the  income  from 
each  chair  exceeding  five  thousand  dollars.  The  number 
of  students  afterwards,  until  the  opening  of  the  war,  fluc- 
tuated between  four  hundred  and  seventy-five,  as  the  min- 


128  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

imum,  and  six  hundred  and  thirty-one,  as  the  maximum, 
the  latter  being  the  largest  class  the  college  ever  had. 
Miitter,  after  his  resignation,  was  occasionally  heard  to 
indulge  in  sighs  and  exclamations  about  the  future  pros- 
perity of  the  school,  evidently  imagining  that  his  with- 
drawal would  seriously  damage  it.  But  no  such  result 
followed ;  and  I  believe  it  may  be  laid  down  as  an  axiom 
that  the  withdrawal  of  any  one  man,  however  distinguished 
or  popular,  never  seriously  injures  any  school.  When 
Professor  Dunglison  resigned  it  was  reasonable  to  suppose 
that  there  would  be  a  falling  off  of  students,  as  he  was 
widely  known  and  highly  appreciated  as  a  teacher,  and  yet 
the  school  did  not  apparently  suffer  in  the  slightest  degree. 
Boerhaave  at  Leyden,  and  Cullen  at  Edinburgh,  were 
the  great  luminaries  among  medical  teachers  in  their  day, 
attracting  pupils  from  all  parts  of  the  world ;  but  that 
was  long  ago,  when  truly  great  and  learned  teachers 
were  scarce.  Nowadays  everybody  teaches,  and  one-man 
power  has  ceased  to  exert  a  predominant  influence.  It  is 
the  combined  strength  of  a  Faculty  that  gives  a  school 
preeminence  and  celebrity.  Students  at  the  present  day 
care  more  for  their  diploma  than  for  the  names  attached 
to  it.  A  certificate  to  go  forth  upon  their  errand,  that 
they  may,  like  Samson,  slay  the  people  with  the  jaw-bone 
of  an  ass,  is  wdiat  most  of  them  mainly  covet. 

During  the  war,  and  for  several  years  after  it  was  ended, 
there  was,  of  course,  a  great  decline  in  the  number  of  stu- 
dents in  all  the  Northern  schools,  while  nearly  all  the 
Southern  ones  were  suspended.  Two-fifths  of  our  stu- 
dents had  for  years  been  supplied  by  the  Southern  States. 
This  supply  was  completely  cut  ofT,  and  the  consequence 
was  that  our  classes  were  for  some  time  under  three 
hundred.  During  the  last  few  years,  however,  there  has 
been  a  steady  increase ;  and  during  the  present  session — 
i869-'70— our  catalogue  exhibits  four  hundred  and  seventy- 
five   names,  embracing  representatives   from  every  State 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  129 

and  Territory  in  the  Union,  as  well  as  from  Canada,  Nova 
Scotia,  and  various  foreign  countries.  The  prospect, 
therefore,  is  that  the  institution  will  again  flourish,  and 
will  have  again,  as  it  had  before  the  war,  the  largest 
classes  in  the  United  States. 

It  is  proper  here  to  state  that  as  soon  as  it  became  known 
that  there  would  be  war  nearly  two  hundred  of  our  South- 
ern students  left  us.  This  event,  which  was  the  first  prac- 
tical secession,  occurred  on  the  evening  of  the  23d  of  De- 
cember, 1 86 1,  shortly  after  the  secession  of  South  Carolina. 
This  conduct  of  the  students  caused  great  commotion  in 
our  school,  as  well  as  in  the  University  of  Pennsylvania, 
and  in  the  city  generally. 

I  was  anxious  that  the  Faculty  should  take  some  formal 
notice  of  this  agitation,  and  that  the  dean  should  be  com- 
missioned to  discharge  this  function  as  a  part  of  his  official 
duties.  He,  however,  had  great  doubt  of  the  propriety  of 
the  measure,  and  when  at  length  he  addressed  the  class  it 
was  evident  that  his  remarks  fell  stillborn  upon  the  ears 
of  that  portion  of  it  which  they  were  especially  designed 
to  influence  and  benefit.  A  strong  appeal  made  at  an  early 
day  might,  I  have  always  been  of  the  opinion,  have  been 
of  great  service.  The  day  before  the  exodus  occurred  I 
devoted  fifteen  minutes  to  the  consideration  of  the  subject, 
in  which  I  strongly  urged  upon  the  disaffected  students  the 
importance  of  remaining  to  the  end  of  the  session  in  close 
attendance  upon  the  lectures  ;  but,  although  my  address 
was  well  received,  the  most  profound  silence  prevailing 
during  its  delivery,  it  failed  of  its  object.  Only  a  few 
of  the  Southern  students  had  the  good  sense  to  complete 
their  course  of  studies. 

While  this  hneute  was  in  progress  letters  were  received 
from  different  Southern  schools,  as  the  Richmond,  Au- 
gusta, Charleston,  and  Atlanta,  offering  to  receive  the  se- 
ceders  with  open  arms,  and  to  give  them  their  tickets, 
at  the  same  time  promising  to  graduate  such  as  might 
1-17 


I30  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

present  themselves  as  candidates.  Governor  Henry  A. 
Wise  made  them  a  long  speech  of  welcome  on  their  ar- 
rival at  Richmond,  in  the  college  of  which  most  of  them 
enlisted.  I  have  often  wondered  what  ultimately  became 
of  these  }'oung  men,  many  of  them  the  sons  of  wealthy  and 
highly  respectable  parents,  well  educated,  refined,  and  am- 
bitious of  distinction.  That  many  of  them  perished  during 
the  war  from  accident  and  disease  is  unquestionable,  and 
it  is  altogether  probable  that  most  of  those  that  escaped 
with  their  lives  were  doomed  to  a  worse  fate — total  demor- 
alization and  utter  worthlessness ! 

I  have  now  been  in  the  Jefferson  Medical  College  nearly 
fourteen  years,  and  of  the  men  who  were  my  colleagues 
when  I  entered  it  only  one  survives.  John  K.  Mitchell, 
crippled  for  several  years  by  apoplexy,  was  the  first  to  fall 
by  the  wayside,  his  death  having  been  occasioned  by  an 
attack  of  pneumonia  in  the  spring  of  1858.  A  necrological 
notice  of  him  from  my  pen  is  contained  in  the  North 
American  Medico-Chirurgical  Review  for  May,  1858.  Dr. 
Robert  IM.  Huston,  who  resigned  in  1857,  on  account  of 
ill  health,  and  who  was  succeeded  in  the  chair  of  Materia 
Medica  and  Therapeutics  by  Dr.  Thomas  D.  Mitchell,  fol- 
lowed next  in  order ;  then  came  Professor  Franklin  Bache, 
in  April,  1864 ;  Dr.  Robley  Dunglison  in  April,  1869 ;  and 
Dr.  Charles  D.  ]\Ieigs  in  Jime  following.  Pancoast  is  thus 
the  only  survivor,  all  these  sad  changes  having  occurred 
within  less  than  thirteen  years.  It  should  be  added  that 
Dr.  Thomas  D.  INIitchell  died  in  1865,  and  was  succeeded 
by  Dr.  John  B.  Biddle.  Dr.  Bache' s  successor  was  Dr.  B. 
Howard  Rand,  and  Dr.  Dunglison' s,  Dr.  J.  Aitken  Meigs. 
Dr.  Miitter,  my  predecessor  in  the  chair  of  Surgery,  died 
at  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  in  April,  1859.  In  1873 
Dr.  Joseph  Pancoast  vacated  the  chair  of  Anatomy,  which 
he  had  filled  with  distinguished  ability  since  1841,  and 
was  succeeded  by  his  son.  Dr.  William  H.  Pancoast,  he  him- 
self being  appointed  Emeritus  Professor.     In  April,  1877, 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  131 

Professor  Rand  resigned  his  chair  on  account  of  ill  health, 
and  was  succeeded  by  Dr.  Robert  E.  Rogers,  for  twenty- 
five  years  Professor  of  Chemistry  in  the  University  of 
Pennsylvania.  The  title  of  the  chair  was  changed  at  my 
suggestion  to  ex-Judge  James  Campbell  and  Mr.  Henry  M. 
Phillips,  two  prominent  members  of  the  Board  of  Trustees, 
to  Medical  Chemistry  and  Toxicology.  The  college  had 
groaned  long  enough  under  the  teachings  of  high  school 
chemistn^,  of  little  use  to  a  medical  student. 

When  I  settled  in  Philadelphia  there  were  four  medical 
schools,  which,  in  1857- '58  had  an  aggregate  class  of  eleven 
hundred  and  thirty-nine  students.  Of  these,  five  hundred 
and  one  attended  the  Jefferson  Medical  College,  four  hun- 
dred and  thirty-five  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  one 
hundred  and  forty  the  Pennsylvania  College,  and  sixty- 
three  the  Philadelphia  College.  The  number  of  graduates 
in  the  same  institutions  was  four  hundred  and  seven — 
two  hundred  and  nine  in  the  first  named,  one  hundred 
and  forty-five  in  the  second,  thirty-five  in  the  third,  and 
eighteen  in  the  fourth. 

It  was  the  custom  at  that  time  for  each  professor  to  de- 
liver a  lecture  introductory  to  his  course  at  the  opening 
of  the  session,  the  first  week  of  which  was  always  con- 
sumed in  this  absurd  manner.  To  break  up  this  system 
it  took  me  four  years,  two  of  the  schools  having  in  the 
meantime  perished  from  inanition.  The  University  and 
Jefferson  College,  after  repeated  intervaews  upon  the  sub- 
ject, finally  agreed  to  have  only  one  general  introductory 
and  to  commence  the  didactic  course  the  next  day,  the 
class  thus  gaining  five  days  of  valuable  time,  consumed 
inider  the  other  system  mostly  in  idleness.  I  have  always 
claimed  some  credit  for  having  efifected  this  important 
change.  It  was  too  bad  that  twenty-eight  men  should 
have  wasted  their  time  and  talents  in  this  manner.  It  was 
almost  as  hard  to  move  the  two  Faculties  of  the  schools  in 
this  matter  as  it  would  be  for  a  resfiment  of  soldiers  to 


132  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

move  the  rock  of  Gibraltar,  so  completely  steeped  were 
they  in  fog^}-ism. 

During  the  late  war  I  was  seized,  as  was  natural  with 
one  in  my  position,  with  a  great  desire  to  make  myself 
practically  acquainted  with  the  nature  and  treatment  of 
gunshot  injuries,  and  for  this  purpose  I  visited  the  battle- 
field of  Shiloh,  in  Tennessee,  shortly  after  I  received  in- 
telligence of  that  engagement.  This,  if  I  mistake  not, 
was  fought  on  the  6th  and  7th  of  April,  and  I  set  out  on 
my  journey  on  the  evening  of  the  loth.  A  heavy  snow- 
storm prevailing  in  the  afternoon  and  evening,  the  train 
was  delayed  about  fifteen  miles  out  of  town,  and  we  did 
not  reach  Harrisburg  until  late  in  the  afternoon.  When  I 
arrived  at  Shiloh  all  the  wounded  had  been  placed  upon 
government  steamboats  lying  at  the  wharf  at  Pittsburg 
Landing.  Upon  one  of  these  I  took  passage  as  far  as 
Mound  City,  where,  and  at  Cairo,  accommodations  had 
been  provided  for  the  unfortunate  sufferers.  On  the  voy- 
asre  I  examined  and  took  notes  of  all  the  more  inter- 
esting  cases  ;  and  I  did  the  same  in  the  hospital  at  Mound 
City  during  the  six  days  that  I  remained  at  that  then 
apparently  God-forsaken  village,  in  which  there  was  not 
a  dry  spot  for  a  man's  feet  to  rest  upon.  The  whole 
country  for  miles  around  was  submerged,  and,  as  the  Ohio 
River  was  very  high,  the  scene  as  witnessed  from  my 
lodgings  in  the  hospital  was  frightful.  During  my  so- 
journ in  this  delectable  place,  designed  by  its  enthusiastic 
founders  to  become  a  great  city  and  a  great  commercial 
and  manufacturing  centre,  I  received  every  possible  atten- 
tion and  courtesy  from  the  hospital  physicians  for  the 
succcessful  prosecution  of  my  inquiries.  The  hospital 
contained  many  highly  interesting  and  instructive  cases, 
sketches  of  which  were  transferred  to  my  note-book  for 
future  reference. 

I  must  not  forget  to  state  that,  in  company  with  my 
son,   Dr.  S.  W.  Gross,   Brigade  Surgeon,   I  rode  leisurely 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  133 

over  tlie  battlefield  at  Shiloh,  and  I  became  strongly  im- 
pressed with  the  disadvantages  of  such  a  position.  Most 
of  the  hard  fighting  took  place  on  timbered  ground,  amidst 
ugly  ravines  and  more  or  less  underbrush,  rendering  the 
movements  of  both  armies  very  embarrassing.  The  boat 
which  carried  me  up  to  Pittsburg  Landing  had  on  board 
several  military  ofiicers  and  a  large  number  of  medical 
men,  intent,  for  the  most  part,  upon  seeing  the  battle- 
field and  rendering  such  assistance  as  the  occasion  might 
demand.  The  evening  before  we  reached  our  destination 
I  delivered,  at  the  unanimous  request  of  my  professional 
brethren,  an  extemporaneous  lecture  upon  amputations 
and  gunshot  injuries,  for  which  they  tendered  me  a  vote 
of  thanks.  I  was  absent  from  home  nearly  three  weeks, 
and  when  I  returned  I  felt  fully  compensated  for  the  fatigue 
and  expense  of  the  journey. 

In  the  spring  of  1862  Surgeon-General  Hammond  offered 
me  the  post  of  Surgeon-in-Chief  of  the  George  Street  Hos- 
pital in  this  city,  an  office  which,  as  I  had  no  fitness  for 
it,  I  promptly  declined,  preferring  to  be  placed  in  charge 
of  the  surgical  ward,  so  as  to  be  the  better  able  to  study 
gunshot  injuries.  The  hospital  was  kept  open  for  about 
nine  months,  and  under  the  judicious  administration  of 
Dr.  L.  D.  Harlow,  who  was  appointed,  at  my  solicitation, 
to  the  position  originally  offered  to  me,  it  effected  a  great 
deal  of  good ;  great  attention  was  paid  to  cleanliness  and 
ventilation,  and  the  number  of  recoveries  was  proportion- 
ably  gratifying.  During  my  connection  with  the  hospital 
I  performed  a  number  of  important  operations,  such  as 
amputation  of  the  thigh  and  excision  of  the  shoulder-joint, 
followed,  in  nearly  every  instance,  by  excellent  recovery. 

In  the  summer  of  1862  I  was  appointed  by  Surgeon- 
General  Hammond  a  member  of  a  board  of  commissioners 
to  examine  into  the  merits  of  artificial  limbs,  with  the  view 
of  furnishing  our  mutilated  soldiers  with  a  proper  substi- 
tute.    The  board  consisted  of  Dr.   Valentine   Mott,   Dr. 


134  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

Satterlee,  U.  S.  A.,  Dr.  Bache,  U.  S.  N.,  Dr.  W.  H.  Van 
Buren,  and  myself.  The  meeting  was  held  in  New  York. 
Upwards  of  a  dozen  manufacturers  were  in  attendance, 
and  they  all  with  one  accord  assured  the  commission  that 
the  flap  operation,  as  it  is  termed  by  surgeons,  left  by  far 
the  best  stump  for  the  adaptation  and  comfortable  wearing 
of  an  artificial  substitute.  I  strongly  advocated  the  use 
of  what  is  known  as  the  peg  leg,  on  account  of  its  better 
adaptation  to  the  wants  of  the  private  soldier.  In  this, 
however,  I  was  overruled,  every  one  of  my  colleagues 
being  in  favor  of  supplying  each  man  with  the  more  ele- 
gant and  costly,  but  far  less  durable,  limb.  I  do  not  know 
what  the  government  paid  for  this  luxurious  article,  but 
the  price  of  each  could  not  have  been  much  less  than  one 
hundred  dollars. 

Immediately  after  the  battle  of  Bull  Run  I  went  to 
Washington  City,  Georgetown  and  Alexandria  to  inspect 
the  hospitals  in  those  places  and  to  study  gunshot  wounds. 
At  Washington,  the  day  after  the  battle,  everything  was 
in  confusion ;  soldiers  were  lying  in  the  streets  in  great 
numbers,  some  on  their  knapsacks,  others  on  the  bare 
earth,  and  horses  and  wagons  were  often  seen  in  every 
direction,  apparently  without  any  one  in  charge  of  them. 
The  whole  city,  indeed,  seemed  to  be  completely  demoral- 
ized. The  next  day  I  visited  Arlington  Heights,  the  late 
residence  of  General  Lee,  and  then  drove  over  to  Alexan- 
dria, in  the  hospitals  of  which  every  courtesy  was  shown 
me  by  the  surgeons  in  attendance.  Whatever  struck  me 
as  of  interest  I  took  notes  of,  and  afterwards  embodied 
some  of  the  material  thus  collected  in  my  System  of  Sur- 
ger\'.  The  treatment  here,  as  well  as  in  the  hospitals  at 
Washington  and  Georgetown,  was  for  the  most  part  very 
simple,  consisting  largely  of  cold-water  dressings,  with 
great  attention  to  cleanliness  and  ventilation.  Before  I 
left  Washington  I  called  upon  Mr.  Cameron,  the  Secretary 
of  War,  to  offer  my  services  to  the  government  in  any 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  135 

capacity  in  which  they  might  be  useful ;  but  no  demand 
was  ever  made  upon  them,  and  the  consequence  was  that 
I  remained  quietly  at  home  in  the  bosom  of  my  family, 
cultivating  the  arts  of  peace  and  attending  faithfully  to 
my  practice.  At  that  time  our  wise  statesmen  cherished 
the  idea  that  the  war  would  be  at  an  end  in  less  than 
ninety  days.  Any  goose  who  had  the  slightest  knowledge 
of  Southern  character  might  have  known  better.  This 
stupidity  came  ver>^  nigh  proving  disastrous  to  the  Gov- 
ernment. 

Soon  after  my  arrival  at  Philadelphia,  Dr.  T.  G.  Richard- 
son and  I  issued  the  North  American  IVIedico-Chinirgical 
Review,  Messrs.  J.  B.  Lippincott  &  Co.  being  the  publish- 
ers. The  understanding  was  that  the  patrons  of  the  Louis- 
ville Medical  Review  should  receive  the  new  journal  for 
the  first  six  months  to  cover  their  subscription,  which  was 
five  dollars  a  year.  One  of  the  peculiar  features  of  the 
new,  or  rather  substitute,  journal  was  that  each  depart- 
ment of  the  sciences  was  intrusted  to  a  separate  contrib- 
utor, whose  duty  it  was  to  furnish  an  abstract  of  the 
current  literature,  so  that  it  was  always  fully  booked  up 
in  regard  to  the  latest  discoveries  and  improvements.  The 
reviews  were  analytical  and  critical — sometimes  quite  caus- 
tic, although  never  discourteous  or  unjust.  The  Editor's 
Table  was  always  interesting,  as  it  gave  a  brief  abstract 
of  the  latest  intelligence.  There  were,  besides,  necrolo- 
gical  notices  and  a  bi-monthly  bibliographical  record.  The 
original  articles  were  often  able  and  elaborate.  One  of  our 
most  learned,  frequent,  and  exhaustive  writers  was  Dr. 
John  Bell,  A  dollar  a  page  was  the  sum — and  a  meagre 
one  it  was — paid  to  the  contributors.  The  work  went  on 
well  until  the  war  broke  out,  when  all  our  Southern  sub- 
scribers dropped  off,  and  the  publishers  were  compelled  to 
abandon  it  at  the  close  of  the  fifth  year.  It  was  a  day  of 
great  rejoicing  with  me  when  I  received  the  intimation 
that  this  step  was  required ;   for  during  the  last  twelve 


136  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

months  of  the  existence  of  the  journal  really  the  whole 
drudgery  of  editing  it  devolved  upon  me,  notwithstanding 
the  original  stipulation  to  the  contrary — Dr.  Richardson 
having  moved  to  New  Orleans  more  than  three  years  pre- 
viously as  Professor  of  Anatomy  in  the  University  of 
Louisiana,  and  my  son,  Dr.  Samuel  W.  Gross,  who  had 
acted  as  assistant  editor,  having  gone  into  the  army  as  a 
brigade  surgeon.  I  had  fretted  under  the  editorial  hard- 
ships, and  was  therefore  charmed  when  I  got  rid  of  a  task 
which  had  been,  in  some  degree,  forced  upon  me,  for 
which  I  never  had  any  taste,  and  which  encroached  alto- 
gether too  much  upon  my  time  and  patience.  What  was 
worse  than  all,  when  anything  appeared  in  the  pages  of 
the  journal  that  was  in  any  wise  offensive,  either  in  reality 
or  imagination,  the  whole  burden  was  sure  to  fall  upon 
me  as  the  senior  editor.  To  the  abuse  which  I  thus  re- 
ceived I  rarely  formally  replied,  a  note  of  explanation 
being  generally  deemed  quite  sufficient.  I  was  deter- 
mined never  to  involve  myself  or  the  journal  in  contro- 
versy, or  to  do  anything  inconsistent  with  professional, 
manly  editorial  dignity.  Great  regret  was  expressed  at 
the  discontinuance  of  the  journal,  and  even  long  after  that 
event — even,  indeed,  after  the  close  of  the  war — letters 
reached  me  from  various  sections  of  the  country  v/ith  a 
request  to  send  specimen  numbers  of  the  Review,  the 
writers  not  knowing  that  it  had  long  ago  breathed  its 
last.  It  was  considered,  although  I  say  it  myself,  the  best 
critical  medical  journal  ever  published  on  this  continent, 
and  for  that  reason,  if  no  other,  it  was  a  source  of  regret 
with  many  practitioners  that  it  was  so  short-lived. 

I  contributed  to  the  pages  of  this  journal  a  number  of 
more  or  less  elaborate  reviews,  as  well  as  original  papers, 
and  it  was  made,  during  the  greater  part  of  its  existence, 
the  vehicle  of  the  reports  of  my  clinics  at  the  Philadelphia 
Hospital  and  the  Jefferson  Medical  College.  In  the  July 
number  for  1858  I  furnished  an  elaborate  paper  of  forty 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  137 

pages  on  the  Nature  and  Treatment  of  Tuberculosis  of 
the  Hip  Joint,  ilkistrated  by  dissections.  Fees  for  Pro- 
fessional Services  was  published  in  the  Editor's  Table  at 
the  end  of  the  volume.  One  of  the  most  careful  articles 
furnished  by  me  was  a  Sketch  of  the  Life  and  Services 
of  Ambrose  Pare,  covering  twenty-four  pages.  It  was  my 
last  contribution  to  the  journal,  with  the  exception  of  some 
necrological  notices  and  the  editorial  valedictory. 

In  the  autumn  of  1857  ^  founded,  along  with  Dr.  J.  ]\I. 
Da  Costa,  the  Philadelphia  Pathological  Society,  of  which 
I  was  elected  the  first  President  and  Dr.  Da  Costa  the  first 
Secretary.  Dr.  Rene  La  Roche  and  Dr.  Alfred  Stille  were 
Vice-Presidents,  Dr.  Thomas  G.  Morton  Assistant  Sec- 
retaiy,  and  Dr.  Addinell  Hewson  Treasurer.  The  meet- 
ings were  held  then,  as  now,  once  a  fortnight,  and  con- 
sisted principally  of  the  younger  members  of  the  pro- 
fession. The  idea  of  instituting  such  a  society  was  first 
broached  by  myself  to  Dr.  Da  Costa,  whose  feelings 
were  at  once  warmly  enlisted  in  the  matter ;  and  within 
a  few  weeks  after  we  had  talked  it  over  the  prelimi- 
nary meeting  took  place  at  my  office.  For  a  number 
of  years  the  society  occupied  a  room  in  the  building  on 
the  Pennsylvania  Hospital  grounds,  formerly  used  for  the 
accommodation  of  West's  picture  of  Christ  Healing  the 
Sick.  After  the  completion  of  the  new  edifice  of  the  Col- 
lege of  Physicians  an  apartment  was  rented  in  it,  which 
the  Society  has  ever  since  occupied.  It  has  been  steadily 
increasing  in  prosperity  and  influence.  Its  Transactions, 
originally  published  in  the  North  American  Aledico-Chi- 
rurgical  Review,  and  afterwards  in  the  American  Journal 
of  the  Medical  Sciences,  is  now  issued  in  book  form. 

One  of  the  chief  motives  which  induced  me  to  remove 
to  Philadelphia  was  to  get  rid  of  a  large  and  annoying 
family  practice  at  Louisville  and  to  write  an  elaborate 
System  of  vSurgery,  for  the  production  of  which  my  leisure 
in  Kentucky  was  not  sufficient.     I  had  long  contemplated 


138  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

such  a  work,  and  I  knew  tliat  unless  I  changed  my  resi- 
dence I  sliould  never  be  able  to  fulfil  an  object  which 
lay  so  near  my  heart  and  was  so  intimately  interwoven 
with  my  ambition  and  the  great  purposes  of  my  profes- 
sional life.  Accordingly,  upon  my  arrival  in  Philadel- 
phia, I  confined  myself  strictly  to  office  and  consultation 
business,  to  patients  from  a  distance,  and  to  surgical  oper- 
ations, A  few  families,  nevertheless,  attached  themselves 
to  me,  despite  my  wishes ;  but,  with  these  exceptions, 
I  have  rigidly  carried  out  my  original  intention,  and 
I  have  thus  escaped  a  vast  deal  of  hard  work,  especially 
night  practice,  which  always  causes  so  much  wear  and 
tear  of  mind  and  body.  The  income  from  my  practice 
the  first  year  amounted  to  four  thousand  dollars  ;  from  the 
school,  a  little  upwards  of  five  thousand  dollars.  My  busi- 
ness after  this  rapidly  increased,  and  the  school  also  in- 
creased in  prosperity  until  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  when 
both  declined,  as  we  were  cut  off  from  Southern  patients 
and  Southern  students,  as  I  have  already  mentioned. 

I  had  commenced  the  composition  of  my  Surgery  several 
years  before  I  left  Kentucky,  and  I  now  set  vigorously  to 
work  to  complete  it.  I  had  sketched  the  plan  and  adopted 
a  title,  both  of  which  met  with  the  approval  of  Messrs. 
Blanchard  &  Lea,  who  had  agreed  to  publish  it.  I  had 
determined  to  do  my  best  to  make  it,  if  possible,  the  most 
elaborate,  if  not  the  most  complete,  treatise  in  the  English 
language,  and  I  therefore  gave  myself  ample  time  for  the 
labor.  The  heads  of  my  lectures  served  me  as  a  valuable 
guide,  and  I  generally  wrote  with  facility,  as  my  know- 
ledge of  the  subject,  from  long  study,  practice,  and  con- 
templation, was  extensive,  and,  in  the  main,  accurate. 
I  generally  spent  from  five  to  eight  hours  a  day  upon  my 
manuscript,  subject  of  course  to  frequent  and  sometimes 
annoying  interruptions  by  patients.  In  the  winter  I  com- 
monly sat  up  till  eleven  and  half  past  eleven  o'clock  at 
night.    I  then  closed  my  study,  and  almost  invariably  took 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  139 

a  walk  down  Chestnut  Street  as  far  as  the  State  House,  in 
order  to  obtain  a  little  fresh  air  and  to  shake  off  my  mind 
the  subject  upon  which  I  had  been  so  assiduously  engaged. 
By  this  means  I  generally  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  good 
night's  rest  with  sound  and  refreshing  sleep.  Unless  I 
was  greatly  interrupted,  I  seldom  wrote  less  than  from  ten 
to  fifteen  pages  of  foolscap  in  the  twenty-four  hours,  and 
I  rarely  retired  until  they  were  carefully  corrected.  It  was 
not  often  I  rewrote  anything,  although  I  not  unfrequently 
interlined.  In  the  winter,  during  the  continuance  of  the 
lectures,  my  pen  was  less  active  than  in  the  recess,  but 
I  nevertheless  seldom  failed  to  do  a  good  day's  work.  I 
jogged  along  in  this  manner  until  early  in  the  spring  of 
1859,  when,  the  manuscript  being  ready,  the  printers  com- 
menced their  task,  and  I  the  hard  one  of  proof-reading. 
The  preface  was  dated  July  8th,  1859.  Soon  after,  the 
work  was  issued  in  two  portly  octavo  volumes,  numbering, 
in  the  aggregate,  two  thousand  three  hundred  and  sixty 
pages,  and  profusely  illustrated  by  engravings  on  wood. 
The  mechanical  execution  was  highly  creditable  to  the 
publishers,  printers,  and  artists.  The  edition  comprised 
two  thousand  copies,  and  cost  a  large  sum  of  money, 
enough,  as  Blanchard  «&  Lea  assured  me,  to  have  enabled 
them  to  open  a  respectable  mercantile  house  on  Market 
Street. 

An  author  is  not  always  happy  when  his  labor  is  over. 
Like  Gibbon,  he  may  congratulate  himself,  or  even  thank 
God,  that  the  last  syllable  has  oozed  from  the  point  of  his 
pen.  But  his  self-complacency  is  short-lived,  when,  after 
the  first  night's  repose,  he  reflects  that  his  work  has  to 
pass  through  an  ocean  of  criticism,  and  that  every  little 
cock-sparrow  that  sits  upon  an  editorial  tripod  is  ready 
to  pounce  xipon  him  and  pronounce  judgment  upon  his 
writings,  whether  he  knows  anything  of  their  merits  or 
not.  I  had  not  to  wait  long  for  a  verdict.  First  came  the 
weeklies,  then  the  monthlies  and  bi-monthlies,  and  finally 


I40  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

the  stately  quarterlies,  all  testifying  to  the  excellence  of 
the  work,  and  not  a  few  of  them  declaring  that  it  was  the 
best  system  of  Surgery  in  the  English,  if  not,  indeed,  in 
any  language.  Of  course,  they  said,  it  had  faults  and 
imperfections,  but  these  were,  for  the  most  part,  passed 
lightly  over,  and,  in  the  main,  I  had  great  reason  to  be 
satisfied  with  the  verdict  of  my  countrymen.  Abroad  the 
work  was  equally  well  received,  the  reviewers  bestov/ing 
upon  it  the  highest  encomiums,  both  as  a  scientific  and 
literary  production.  My  surgical  brethren  to  whom  I  had 
sent  complimentary  copies,  all,  with  one  exception,  and 
that  a  former  colleague  and  one  of  my  most  intimate 
friends,  at  least  confessedly  so,  bore  testimony  to  the 
success  of  my  labors.  Although  I  have  since  repeatedly 
met  the  excepted  gentleman  and  have  seen  in  his  study 
the  identical  copy  of  the  work  I  sent  him,  he  has  never 
alluded  to  it  in  my  presence.  My  philosophy  has  never 
been  able  to  comprehend  his  reticence,  the  less  so  as  he 
occupies,  and  that  very  deservedly,  an  elevated  professional 
position. 

The  work  has  now — 1870 — passed  through  four  editions, 
the  last  of  which  was  stereotyped  for  six  thousand  copies. 
Each  issue,  excepting  the  stereotyped  one,  was  a  great 
improvement  upon  the  preceding,  the  labor  spent  upon 
it  having  been  excessive,  in  search  of  every  available 
source  of  information,  including  always  the  results  of  my 
own  ever-increasing  experience  and  more  mature  reflec- 
tion. The  edition  now  in  preparation  has  occupied  all 
my  leisure  during  the  last  four  years,  and  has  required  an 
almost  inconceivable  amount  of  labor  in  the  way  of  addi- 
tions and  modifications.  The  work  will,  in  fact,  be  so 
thoroughly  changed,  and  so  greatly  improved,  as  to  consti- 
tute essentially  a  new  production.  Much  of  this  labor  has 
been  rendered  necessary  by  the  extraordinary  progress  of 
surgery  and  the  remarkable  changes  that  have  occurred  in 
the  treatment  of  accidents  and  diseases.     It  will  be  a  long 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  141 

time  before  tlie  laws  of  this  department  of  the  healing  art 
will  be  as  immutable  as  those  of  the  ]\Iedes  and  Persians. 
This  edition  was  issued  in  1872,  the  last  proof  having  been 
read  the  evening  before  my  departure  for  Europe. 

Bacon  has  remarked  that  "  Some  books  are  to  be  tasted, 
....  and  some  few  to  be  chewed  and  digested, ' '  Mine, 
I  fear,  belongs  to  the  former  rather  than  to  the  latter  class. 
It  would  take  a  man,  even  with  the  most  excellent  set  of 
teeth,  a  long  time  to  chew  my  big  book,  and  a  much 
longer  time,  even  with  the  most  powerful  stomach,  to 
digest  it ;  and  yet  the  work  has  had  many  readers ;  and 
so,  judging  from  this  fact,  it  m.ust  have  been  productive 
either  of  much  good  or  much  harm. 

I  have  often  been  told  that  I  have  simplified  surger\\ 
A  higher  compliment  could  not  have  been  paid  me.  Both 
as  a  writer  and  as  a  teacher  my  aim  has  always  been  to 
make  myself  understood,  or,  in  other  words,  to  express 
myself  in  clear,  intelligible  language,  and  to  compress  the 
greatest  amount  of  matter  into  the  smallest  possible  space. 
I  was  never  satisfied  unless  I  could  give  at  least  one  ex- 
haustive outline  of  the  subject  discussed.  To  leave  a 
subject  imperfect  was,  in  my  opinion,  to  mutilate  it. 

What  compensation  does  the  reader  think  I  obtained  for 
this  hard  work,  this  excessive  toil  of  my  brain,  including 
original  composition,  the  correction  and  improvement  of 
new  editions,  and  the  proof-reading,  in  itself  a  horrible 
task,  death  to  brain  and  eyes,  extending  over  a  period 
certainly  not  less  than  fifteen  years?  Eighty-five  cents  a 
copy,  all  told,  and  no  extra  dividends !  Two  dollars  and 
a  half  ought  to  have  been  the  price,  or,  what  would  have 
been  more  equitable,  an  equal  distribution  of  the  profits 
from  the  sale  of  the  work.  No  wonder  authors  are  poor 
and  publishers  are  rich  ! 

One  of  the  most  painful  circumstances  associated  with 
authorship  is  the  uncertainty  connected  with  one's  works, 
or,  in  other  words,  with  the  fate  that  may  await  them,  the 


142  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

duration  of  their  existence,  and  the  estimation  in  which 
they  will  be  held  by  posterity,  should  they  be  so  fortunate 
as  to  reach  it.  ' '  lyiterature, ' '  says  Horace  Walpole,  ' '  has 
many  revolutions ;  if  an  author  could  rise  from  the  dead 
after  a  hundred  years,  what  would  be  his  surprise  at  the 
adventures  of  his  work!"  Professional  works,  however 
erudite  or  scientific,  are  usually  short-lived.  Few  survive 
their  authors,  and  hardly  one  remains  in  active  circula- 
tion beyond  fifteen  or  twenty  years. 

The  only  review  of  my  System  of  Surgery,  at  all 
worthy  of  the  work,  was  given  of  the  fifth  edition  in  the 
Dublin  Journal  of  Medical  Science  for  1874.  It  comprised 
nearly  fifty  pages  of  that  periodical,  and  was  at  once 
able,  critical,  and  analytical.  The  review  thus  concludes : 
"  His  work  is  cosmopolitan,  the  surger\^  of  the  world  being 
fully  represented  in  it.  The  work,  in  fact,  is  so  histori- 
cally unprejudiced,  and  so  eminently  practical,  that  it  is 
almost  a  false  compliment  to  say  that  we  believe  it  to  be 
destined  to  occupy  a  foremost  place  as  a  work  of  reference 
while  a  system  of  surgery,  like  the  present  system  of  sur- 
gery, is  the  practice  of  surgeons." 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  war  I  wrote  a  little  Manual  of 
Military  Surgery,  a  kind  of  pocket  companion  for  the 
young  surgeons  who  were  flocking  into  the  anny,  and  who 
for  the  most  part  were  ill  prepared  for  the  prompt  and  effi- 
cient discharge  of  their  duties.  It  was  composed  in  nine 
days,  and  published  in  a  fortnight  from  the  time  of  its 
inception,  having  originally  been  designed  as  a  leading 
article  for  the  North  American  Medico- Chirurgical  Review. 
The  work  embraced  in  outline  the  whole  subject  of  mili- 
tary surgery  and  hygiene,  and  under  the  care  of  J.  B.  Lip- 
pincott  &  Co.  passed  through  two  editions  of  two  thousand 
copies  each.  It  was  republished  at  Richmond,  and  was 
extensively  cited  by  the  Confederate  surgeons  during  the 
war.  This  little  book  was  far  more  profitable  to  me,  in  a 
commercial  point  of  view,  considering  the  time  and  labor 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  143 

bestowed  upon  it,  than  any  other  of  my  productions.  A 
translation  of  it  in  Japanese  appeared  at  Tokio  in  1874. 

In  1861  I  edited  a  work,  an  octavo  volume  of  upwards 
of  eight  hundred  pages,  entitled  Lives  of  Eminent  Ameri- 
can Physicians  and  Surgeons  of  the  Nineteenth  Century. 
It  was  dedicated  to  Dr.  Samuel  Jackson,  an  eminent  phy- 
sician of  this  city,  formerly  of  Northumberland,  Pennsyl- 
vania, and  to  Dr.  John  W.  Francis,  of  New  York,  one  of 
the  great  men  of  the  country',  full  of  wit,  learning,  and 
bonho7nie.  It  v/as  designed  to  fill  a  void  that  had  long 
been  felt  in  our  literature,  the  only  productions  of  the  kind 
being  those  of  Thacher  and  of  Williams,  for  the  most  part 
crude  compilations,  especially  the  work  of  the  latter.  My 
list  of  collaborators  embraced  some  of  the  ablest  medical 
men  in  the  country.  The  two  most  elaborate  as  well  as 
the  two  best  articles  were  those  on  Rush  and  Physick,  sup- 
plied, respectively,  by  Dr.  Samuel  Jackson  and  Dr.  John 
Bell,  of  this  city.  For  the  latter  I  paid  one  hundred  dol- 
lars, and  it  was  the  only  one  for  which  any  compensation 
was  asked.  Bell  was  poor,  and  I  could  not  refuse.  Alto- 
gether the  work  cost  me  upwards  of  two  hundred  dollars — 
a  dead  loss,  as  I  never  received  anything  for  the  copyright. 
I  contributed  myself  only  three  sketches — Ephraim  Mc- 
Dowell, the  ovariotomist ;  Drake,  the  great  Western  physi- 
cian ;  and  John  Syng  Dorsey,  the  nephew  of  Physick  and 
the  author  of  the  Elements  of  Surgery.  The  book  cost  me 
much  labor  and  vexation,  and  was,  commercially  speaking, 
a  failure.  The  undertaking  was  altogether  a  labor  of  love 
on  my  part. 

In  1868,  in  the  discourse  which  I  read  before  the  Ameri- 
can Medical  Association  at  its  meeting  at  Washington,  as 
its  president,  I  called,  among  other  matters,  the  attention 
of  that  body  to  a  new  method  of  appointing  medical  wit- 
nesses as  experts  in  cases  involving  medico-legal  consider- 
ations. In  1869,  at  the  meeting  at  New  Orleans,  an  elab- 
orate paper  from  my  pen  on  the  Training  of  Nurses  was 


144 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


read,  I  myself  being  absent  from  unavoidable  circum- 
stances. The  following  year  I  read  the  same  paper  be- 
fore the  Pennsylvania  State  IMedical  Society,  at  its  meet- 
ing at  Erie.  The  paper  attracted  much  attention,  as  it 
was  the  first  ever  published  on  that  subject  in  the  United 
States.  Extra  copies  were  printed,  and  a  committee  was 
appointed  to  bring  the  matter  more  prominently  before  the 
profession  and  the  public ;  but  it  failed  to  act,  and  others 
have  since  done  the  work. 

The  publication  of  an  American  Medical  Register,  com- 
prising a  list  of  the  names  and  residences  of  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  regular  profession,  afterwards  issued  by  Dr. 
D.  G.  Brinton,  editor  of  the  Philadelphia  Medical  and 
Surgical  Reporter,  had  its  origin  in  my  suggestion. 

In  June,  1874,  I  read  before  the  American  Medical  Asso- 
ciation, at  its  meeting  at  Detroit,  an  address  on  Syphilis 
in  its  Relation  to  the  National  Health,  in  which  I  spoke 
of  the  deteriorating  influence  of  this  disease  upon  the 
human  race,  of  its  extensive  prevalence,  of  the  import- 
ance of  enacting  laws  for  its  arrest,  and  of  the  identity, 
in  many  cases,  of  syphilis  and  what  is  known  as  scrofula. 
The  address,  comprising  nearly  fifty  pages,  afterwards 
published  in  the  Transactions  of  the  Association,  occupied 
nearly  two  hours  in  its  delivery,  and  received  the  highest 
commendation  from  the  meeting, — from  Dr,  Sims,  of  New 
York,  more  especially,  who  in  some  eloquent  remarks, 
called  attention  to  its  great  value,  and  offered  a  resolution 
for  the  appointment  of  a  committee  to  present  the  sub- 
ject to  the  consideration  of  the  legislatures  of  the  different 
States  and  Territories.  Extra  copies  were  widely  dissemi- 
nated. The  preparation  of  the  address  cost  me  much  labor 
and  thought.  The  unicity  of  the  syphilitic  poison  was 
strongly  insisted  upon,  and  established  by  irrefragable  tes- 
timony. The  Detroit  Free  Press,  of  June  4th,  1874,  in 
speaking  of  this  address,  says:  "Dr.  Gross  delivered  a 
long,    learned,   and   deeply  interesting  discourse   upon   a 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  145 

strictly  professional  subject,  the  nature  of  which  forbids  its 
publication  in  a  secular  journal."  This  remark  reminds 
me  of  my  boyish  days,  when,  in  certain  rural  districts, 
over-modest  dames  used  to  blush  when  they  spoke  of  Leg- 
horn hats,  and  dressed  the  legs  of  the  piano  in  pantalets ; 
it  is  an  illustration  of  the  old  adage,  "Straining  at  a 
gnat  and  swallowing  a  camel."  The  filthy  quack  ad- 
vertisements in  the  same  number  of  the  Free  Press 
are  in  striking  contrast  with  such  squeamishness  on  the 
part  of  its  editor.  The  occasion  was  a  most  opportune 
one  for  calling  attention  to  a  disease  which  is  rapidly 
undermining  the  health  and  life  of  the  nation,  and  which 
is  a  hundredfold  worse  in  its  effects  than  the  fiercest 
epidemic  that  ever  struck  terror  into  the  hearts  of  a  people. 
In  Great  Britain  and  on  the  continent  of  Europe  they  gen- 
erally call  such  things  by  their  proper  names.  In  this 
country,  which  in  this  respect  is  less  enlightened,  we  are 
acquiring  this  habit  gradually.  Fanatics  and  hypocrites 
cannot  be  taken  by  storm. 

The  following  year  I  read  before  the  same  body,  at  its 
meeting  at  Louisville,  May  5th,  1875,  a  discourse  on 
Bloodletting  Considered  as  a  Therapeutic  Agent.  ]\Iy 
object  in  preparing  the  address  was  to  recall  the  attention 
of  the  profession  to  the  importance  of  the  abstraction  of 
blood  in  the  treatment  of  inflammation.  I  asserted  that  the 
operation  ought  to  be  performed  more  frequently,  and  that, 
with  proper  care,  it  was  calculated  to  be  of  immense  benefit 
not  only  in  the  treatment  of  inflammation,  but  in  many 
other  affections  attended  with  general  vascular  repletion 
and  local  congestions.  This  paper  was  also  well  received, 
and  I  flatter  myself  that  it  has  already  been  productive  of 
much  good.  The  announcement  of  the  title  of  the  dis- 
course, One  of  the  Lost  Arts,  excited  much  attention  and 
speculation  previous  to  its  deliver)'  before  the  Association. 

In  October,  1875,  I  delivered  two  elaborate  lectures  in- 
troductory to  my  course  at  the  college  on  the  History  of 
1—19 


146  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

American  Medical  Literature  from  1776  to  the  Present 
Time.  These  discourses  cost  me  much  labor,  occupying 
most  of  my  leisure  between  my  return  from  the  meeting 
of  the  American  Medical  Association  at  Louisville  and  the 
opening  of  the  winter  session  of  the  school.  The  design 
of  the  lectures,  afterwards  issued  in  book  form,  was  to  give 
a  sketch,  true  and  faithful,  of  the  literature  of  the  profes- 
sion, holding  up  as  in  a  mirror  what  each  author  had 
done  to  illustrate  his  respective  department.  The  brochure 
occupies  eighty-five  octavo  pages. 

In  the  American  Journal  of  the  Medical  Sciences  for 
April,  1876,  is  an  article,  consisting  of  fifty-three  closely- 
printed  pages,  from  my  pen  on  the  History  of  American 
Surgery  from  1776  to  1876.  It  is  one  of  several  papers  by 
different  writers  illustrative  of  the  progress  of  the  different 
branches  of  medicine  in  this  country  during  the  period 
here  specified,  and  it  has  since,  along  with  these  papers, 
been  issued  in  book  form  as  a  kind  of  centennial  souvenir. 
I  need  not  add  how  much  effort  and  thought  this  sketch 
cost  me.  It  was  written  at  the  request  of  the  editors  of  the 
Journal.  Mr.  Lea,  the  proprietor,  paid  me  the  magnifi- 
cent sum  of  sixty-six  dollars  and  twenty-five  cents  for  my 
labor ;  that  is,  at  the  rate  of  one  dollar  and  a  quarter  a 
page !  Let  me  add,  however,  that  pecuniary  compensation 
did  not  influence  me  in  preparing  it  for  the  press.  The 
article  will  be  read  one  hundred  years  hence,  and  that 
must  be  my  reward. 

Among  other  contributions  which  I  have  at  various 
times  made  to  medical  and  surgical  literature,  I  may 
briefly  refer  to  the  following : — 

A  Valedictory  Address  to  the  Students  of  the  Jefferson 
Medical  College:    March  14th,  i860. 

An  Account  of  a  Remarkable  Case  of  Melanosis,  or  Black 
Cancer  :  from  the  North  American  Medico-Chirurgical  Review  for 
May,  i860. 

Practical  Observations  on  the  Nature  and  Treatment  of 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  147 

Prostatorrhcea  :  a  paper  read  before  the  Medical  Society  of  the 
State  of  Pennsylvania,  at  its  meeting  in  Philadelphia,  June,  i860, 
and  published  in  the  North  American  Medico-Chirurgical  Review 
and  in  the  Society's  Transactions. 

Brunonianism,  Toddism,  and  other  Isms  :  a  paper  read  before 
the  Philadelphia  County  Medical  Society,  November  14th,  i860, 
and  published  in  the  North  American  Medico-Chirurgical  Review, 
January,  1861. 

Necrological  Notice  of  Jedediah  Cobb,  M.  D.,  formerly 
Professor  of  Anatomy  in  the  University  of  Louisville :  published  in 
the  same  Review,  January,  1861. 

Biographical  Sketch  of  Charles  Wilkins  Short,  M.  D., 
formerly  Professor  of  Materia  Medica  and  Medical  Botany  in  the 
University  of  Louisville,  Kentucky :  prepared  by  request  of  the 
American  Philosophical  Society. 

Then  and  Now  :  Advances  in  Medical  Science  in  the 
Past  Forty  Years  :  a  Discourse  Introductory  to  the  Forty-third 
Course  of  Lectures  in  the  Jefferson  Medical  College  of  Philadelphia 
in  1867.  This  address  attracted  much  attention,  and  occupied 
nearly  two  hours  in  its  delivery. 

The  Live  Physician  :  Charge  to  the  Graduates  at  the  Forty-third 
Annual  Commencement  of  the  Jefferson  Medical  College  in  1868. 

A  Memoir  of  Valentine  Mott,  M.  D.  :  in  1868. 

A  Memoir  of  Robley  Dunglison,  M.  D.  :  read  before  the  Col- 
lege of  Physicians  of  Philadelphia,  October  20th,  1869. 

In  May,  1870,  I  contributed  to  the  Medical  Practitioner,  issued 
at  Louisville,  an  article  on  Nature's  Voice  in  Disease  and  Con- 
valescence. 

An  Address  before  the  Alumni  Association  of  the  Jef- 
ferson Medical  College:  March  nth,  1871. 

Address  before  the  Medical  Society  of  the  State  of  Penn- 
sylvania AT  ITS  Twenty-second  Annual  Session:   June,  1871. 

The  Factors  of  Disease  and  Death  after  Injuries,  Partu- 
rition, AND  Surgical  Operations  :  a  paper  read  before  the  Amer- 
ican Public  Health  Association  in  Philadelphia,  November,  1874. 

The  Glory  and  Hardships  of  the  Medical  Life:  a  Vale- 
dictory Address  at  the  Forty-ninth  Annual  Commencement  of  the 
Jefferson  Medical  College,  March  nth,  1875. 


148  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

The  Proximate  Cause  of  Pain  :  an  address  delivered  before 
the  American  Medical  Association  at  its  meeting  at  Chicago,  1877: 

An  Address  Delivered  before  the  Kentucky  State  Med- 
ical Society  at  its  Meeting  at  Danville,  in  1879,  at  the 
Dedication  of  the  Monument  Erected  in  Memory  of  Eph- 
RAiM  McDowell  :  published  in  octavo  by  the  Society. 

A  Memoir  of  Dr.  Isaac  Hays,  late  editor  of  the  American  Jour- 
nal of  the  Medical  Sciences :  published  in  the  Journal,  and  sepa- 
rately in  1879. 

The  Social  Position  of  the  Doctor  :  published  in  the  New 
York  Medical  Record,  March  13th,  1880. 

In  1 88 1  I  prepared  a  memoir  of  John  Hunter,  entitled  John 
Hunter  and  His  Pupils,  read  in  the  same  year  as  an  anniversary 
discourse  before  the  Academy  of  Surgery  of  Philadelphia,  and  pub- 
lished soon  after  as  an  octavo  volume  of  ninety-six  pages. 

In  1882  I  delivered  the  valedictory  address  to  the  graduates  of 
Bellevue  Hospital  Medical  College,  New  York  :  not  published. 

An  Address  of  Welcome  before  the  National  Association 
FOR  the  Protection  of  the  Insane  and  the  Prevention  of 
Insanity  :  January,  1883. 

A  paper  on  the  Value  of  Early  Operations  in  Morbid 
Growths  :  read  before  the  American  Surgical  Association  at  its  meet- 
ing at  Cincinnati,  in  May,  1883,  and  published  in  its  Transactions. 

The  Importance  of  Having  Trained  Nurses  for  the  Smaller 
Towns  and  Rural  Districts,  and  the  Proper  Method  of 
Securing  Them  :  published  in  the  Philadelphia  Medical  News  for 
September  15th,  1883. 

Obituary  Notice  of  Dr.  J.  Marion  Sims  :  prepared  for  the  Med- 
ical News  the  evening  after  I  received  the  intelligence  of  his  death. 

Note. — In  addition  to  the  contributions  referred  to,  Dr.  Gross  a  few  weeks 
before  his  death  wrote  two  important  papers,  in  the  preparation  of  which 
he  had  taken  profound  interest,  and  the  proof  of  which  he  corrected  during 
the  pain  and  physical  weakness  incident  to  his  last  illness.  Of  these,  the  former 
— Wounds  of  the  Intestines — was  read  before  the  American  Surgical  Associa- 
tion by  his  friend,  Professor  T.  G.  Richardson,  of  New  Orleans,  on  April  30th, 
1884;  and  the  latter,  entitled  Lacerations  OF  the  Female  Sexual  Organs 
Consequent  upon  Parturition  ;  their  Causes  and  their  Prevention,  was  read, 
two  days  after  his  death,  by  Dr.  S.  C.  Busey,  before  the  American  Medical 
Association. — Editors. 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  149 

During  my  residence  at  Cincinnati  I  was  elected  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Cincinnati  Medical  Society,  of  the  Ohio  His- 
torical and  Philosophical  Society  at  Columbus,  and  of  the 
Medical  Society  of  Louisiana  at  New  Orleans.  After  I 
moved  to  Louisville,  I  became  a  member  of  the  College 
of  Physicians  of  Philadelphia,  and  of  the  American  Phil- 
osophical Society.  In  1868  I  was  elected  a  member  of 
the  Royal  Medical  and  Chirurgical  Society  of  London ; 
and  in  1869  of  the  Imperial  Lledical  Society  of  Vienna. 
While  in  attendance  at  the  British  Medical  Association 
at  Oxford  in  August,  1868,  I  was  made  an  honorary  mem- 
ber of  that  body.  I  am  a  member  of  the  jMassachusetts 
Medical  Society,  of  the  New  York  State  Medical  Society, 
of  the  Academy  of  IMedicine  of  New  York,  of  the  Phila- 
delphia County  Medical  Society,  of  the  Medical  Society  of 
the  State  of  Pennsylvania,  of  the  Kentucky  State  Medical 
Society,  of  the  American  Medical  Association,  of  the  Na- 
tional Association  for  the  Protection  of  the  Insane,  of  the 
American  Public  Health  Association,  of  the  Academy  of 
Natural  Sciences,  of  the  Pathological  Society  of  Philadel- 
phia, and  of  the  Medical  Jurisprudence  Society  of  Phila- 
delphia. In  April,  1870,  I  received  the  diploma  of  the 
Medico-Chirurgical  Society  of  Edinburgh,  composed  of 
the  most  distinguished  men  in  that  city.  I  am  also  a 
member  of  the  Medical  Society  of  Christiania,  and  of  the 
Royal  Society  of  Public  Medicine  of  Belgium.  In  April, 
1874,  I  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Clinical  Society  of 
London ;  in  1876,  of  the  Sociedad  Medica  de  San  Luis 
Potosi  of  Mexico  ;  and  soon  after  of  the  Medical  Society  of 
London. 

In  April,  1870,  I  was  appointed  president  of  the  Teach- 
ers' Medical  Convention,  assembled  at  Washington  City, 
to  consider  the  improvements  that  might  be  suggested  for 
a  system  of  education  for  the  American  Medical  Colleges. 
In  June  of  the  following  year  I  was  elected  president  of 
the  Medical  Society  of  the  State  of  Pennsylvania,  at  its 


I50 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


meeting  in  this  city.  In  September,  1876,  I  was  honored 
with  the  office  of  president  of  the  International  Medical 
Congress,  held  in  this  city — an  honor  which  I  greatly  value, 
the  more  because  it  was  unsolicited,  and  unanimously  be- 
stowed both  by  the  committee  on  nominations  and  by  the 
congress.  On  the  19th  of  November,  1878,  I  was  elected 
an  honorary  member  of  the  Pathological  Society  of  Lon- 
don, a  distinction  which  I  highly  appreciated,  as  I  was  the 
first  regular  teacher  of  Pathological  Anatomy  in  the  United 
States. 

During  my  residence  at  Louisville  I  assisted  in  founding 
the  Kentucky  State  INIedical  Society,  of  which  I  was  after- 
wards president;  in  1863,  I  was  elected  president  of  the 
Philadelphia  County  Medical  Society ;  and,  in  1867,  pres- 
ident of  the  American  Medical  Association,  a  compliment 
the  more  cherished  because  it  was  conferred  at  Cincin- 
nati, my  early  Western  home,  upwards  of  a  quarter  of  a 
century  before.  In  1880  I  was  made  president  of  the  Board 
of  Trustees  of  the  Pennsylvania  College  of  Dental  Surgery, 
and  in  1883  I  was  made  president  of  the  Medical  Juris- 
prudence Society  of  Philadelphia. 

The  Philadelphia  Academy  of  Surgery  was  founded  in 
1879.  I  was  the  originator  of  it,  as  I  was  also  of  the 
American  Surgical  Association,  instituted  in  1880.  They 
each  did  me  the  honor  to  make  me  president.  I  had 
myself  long  seen  the  necessity  for  two  such  associations, 
one  of  a  local  and  the  other  of  a  national  character ;  and 
when  I  formally  broached  the  matter  to  some  of  my  sur- 
gical friends,  they  at  once  offered  me  their  cooperation. 
The  object  of  both  these  societies,  as  expressed  in  their 
respective  constitutions,  prepared  by  myself,  and  after- 
wards adopted  with  certain  modifications,  is  the  culti- 
vation and  improvement  of  the  art  and  science  of 
Surgery,  and  the  promotion  of  the  interest  not  only  of 
their  Fellows  but  of  the  Medical  profession  at  large.  Both 
societies  are  already  in  a  flourishing  condition,  and,  if  judi- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  151 

ciously  conducted,  cannot  fail  to  contribute  materially  to 
the  advancement  and  dignity  of  Surgical  Science  in  the 
United  States,  which  has  already  produced  so  many 
able  and  distinguished  surgeons.  It  is  no  vain  boast- 
ing when  I  declare  that,  in  my  opinion,  the  surgeons  of 
this  countr>'  are  fully  equal  in  learning,  and  in  ability  as 
diagnosticians,  operators,  teachers,  and  writers,  to  any  in 
the  Old  World.  This  opinion  is  now,  I  am  happy  to  add, 
generally  accepted.  Vast  strides  have  been  made  in  all 
these  respects  during  the  last  twenty  years  ;  and  that  the 
two  institutions  under  consideration  will  be  instrumental 
in  creating  a  spirit  of  generous  and  useful  rivalry,  espe- 
cially among  the  younger  members  of  the  profession,  can- 
not for  one  moment  be  doubted.  I  certainly  anticipate 
great  results  ;  and,  if  my  expectations  be  realized  even  in  a 
comparatively  slight  degree,  I  shall  be  amply  compensated 
for  all  the  care  and  labor  I  have  bestowed  upon  them. 
American  surgery  has  given  the  world  Ovariotomy  and 
Anaesthesia,  two  of  the  greatest  boons  ever  conferred  upon 
humanity,  and  it  is  actively  engaged  in  contributing  its 
share  in  settling  the  great  problems,  therapeutic  and 
operative,  which  are  ever>-where  agitating  the  surgical 
profession.  Where  genius,  industry,  and  talent  are  so 
conspicuously  developed,  the  sceptre  will  not  be  likely  to 
be  monopolized  by  any  one  nation. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

PROFESSIONAL  INCOME  AND  FEES — TEACHING — KNOWLEDGE  OF  PATHOLOGICAL 
ANATOMY — AS  A  PRACTITIONER,  PHYSICIAN,  SURGEON,  AND  ACCOUCHEUR — 
AS   A   WRITER   AND   AUTHOR. 

I  LEFT  Philadelphia  a  few  hundred  dollars  in  debt,  not- 
withstanding I  had  parted  a  short  time  previously  with 
my  books,  and  it  therefore  took  me  some  time  after  I 
settled  at  Easton  to  get  a  sufficient  start  to  discharge  my 
small  liabilities.  This  was  a  source  of  great  annoyance  to 
me,  and  caused  me  some  anxiety,  although  my  creditors 
were  very  indulgent.  At  Easton  I  soon  obtained  practice, 
but  as  the  charges  were  very  low  I  made  little  beyond  my 
expenses,  so  that  when  I  left  for  Cincinnati  I  had,  as  stated 
in  a  previous  page,  less  than  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
in  my  pocket.  I  cannot  refrain  here  from  referring  more 
particularly  to  the  subject  of  fees  at  Easton.  A  visit  in 
town  was  fifty  cents,  and  out  of  the  town  from  one  to  two 
dollars,  according  to  the  distance,  including  a  small  charge 
for  medicine,  which  it  was  the  custom  for  the  physician  to 
put  up  himself,  he  being  obliged  for  this  purpose  to  keep 
a  small  supply  on  hand  in  his  office.  A  consultation  visit 
was  five  dollars  for  the  first,  and  a  dollar  for  each  subse- 
quent one.  Bleeding  in  the  spring  and  autumn  was  then 
very  common,  as  a  means,  as  was  believed,  of  purifying 
the  blood  and  relieving  congestion.  Sometimes  a  person 
would  come  with  a  request  to  be  bled  in  the  foot,  on  the 
assumption  that  it  was  a  great  remedy  for  headache  !  The 
quantity  of  blood  lost  for  these  and  other  purposes  gener- 
ally varied  from  sixteen  to  twenty-four  ounces.  Unless  the 
loss  was  considerable  the  patient  did  not  consider  that  he 
152 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  SAMUEL  D.  GROSS,  M.  D.    153 

had  received  an  equivalent  for  his  money.  These  charges 
were  beyond  doubt  very  contemptible  ;  but  then  it  is  to  be 
borne  in  mind  that  rent,  provisions,  and  clothing  were  much 
lower  than  they  are  now.  A  chicken,  for  example,  could 
be  bought  at  six  to  ten  cents,  and  the  best  quality  of  beef 
at  about  eight  to  nine  cents.  The  ordinary  fee  for  an 
obstetric  case  was  five  dollars  among  the  poorer  classes, 
and  from  ten  to  twenty-five  among  the  wealthier  and  more 
influential. 

For  the  last  eighteen  months  of  my  residence  at  Easton 
I  enjoyed  the  office  of  surgeon  to  the  recruiting  barracks, 
with  a  salary  of  thirty  dollars  a  month.  This  sum  was  of 
great  importance  to  me  in  meeting  my  current  expenses. 
I  was  indebted  for  this  position  to  a  former  schoolmate, 
Lieutenant  Perkins,  of  the  army,  a  warm-hearted,  generous 
fellow. 

When  I  left  Easton  I  disposed  of  my  practice,  along 
with  the  office  of  recruiting  surgeon,  to  an  early  medical 
friend,  and  it  was  to  this  circumstance  chiefly  that  was 
due  my  ability  to  remove  to  Cincinnati.  The  few  hundred 
dollars  which  I  received  from  this  source  were  of  ver>'  great 
advantage  to  me  in  my  new  home. 

At  Cincinnati  the  charges  were  also  miserably  low,  the 
ordinary  visit  being  one  dollar  and  the  consultation  five. 
My  practice  the  first  year  yielded  me  upwards  of  fourteen 
hundred  dollars,  and  the  Demonstratorship  in  the  Medical 
College  of  Ohio  about  five  hundred  dollars,  making  an 
aggregate  of  nearly  two  thousand  dollars.  During  the  last 
year,  my  seventh,  my  books  showed  upwards  of  nine  thou- 
sand dollars  as  the  result  of  my  practice,  a  considerable 
portion  being  consultation,  which  had  rapidly  increased 
during  the  last  three  years  both  in  extent  and  influence. 
I  also  did  a  large  share  of  surgical  practice,  and  not  un- 
frequently  visited  patients  at  a  distance.  I  was,  in  fact,  in 
the  possession  of  a  large  field,  worthy  of  cultivation,  and 
in  the  enjoyment  of  a  rapidly  increasing  reputation. 


154  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

At  Louisville  the  charges  for  professional  services  were 
much  higher  than  at  Cincinnati,  and  I  soon  began  to 
accumulate  money.  My  surgical  practice  and  the  income 
from  the  school  made  me  independent,  but  not  rich,  and 
when,  in  1856,  I  quit  Kentucky  I  was  hardly  worth  sixty 
thousand  dollars,  all  told.  I  was  now  fifty-one  years  old, 
and  had  toiled  in  my  profession,  as  few  men  have  ever 
toiled,  for  upwards  of  a  quarter  of  a  centur}^  I  was,  how- 
ever, perfectly  happy  and  contented,  having  never  craved, 
much  less  worked  for,  riches.  My  family  had  no  reason- 
able wants  that  could  not  readily  be  supplied,  and  they 
had  the  rare  faculty  of  accommodating  themselves  to 
circumstances. 

The  largest  fee  I  ever  received  was  two  thousand  dol- 
lars, paid  me  for  a  visit  which  I  made  at  Montgomery, 
Alabama,  in  1865,  to  a  rich  planter  affected  with  chronic 
cystitis.  During  my  residence  at  Louisville  I  got  one 
thousand  dollars  for  a  visit  to  another  planter  in  North 
Alabama.  I  was  absent  one  week,  making  the  journey  on 
a  steamer,  in  which  I  employed  nearly  all  my  time  in 
writing  a  Discourse  upon  the  Life  and  Character  of  Dr. 
Drake,  which  I  read  soon  after  my  return  before  the 
trustees,  faculty,  and  students  of  the  University  of  Louis- 
ville. Thus  my  time  was  spent  quite  profitably.  The 
lectures  which  were  lost  in  consequence  of  my  absence 
I  made  up  after  my  return.  A  few  }'ears  ago  I  received 
one  thousand  dollars  for  an  operation  which  I  performed 
upon  a  rich  sugar  refiner  of  this  city  for  the  relief  of 
neuralgia.  I  have  repeatedly  received  five  hundred  dollars 
for  operations. 

Doctors  are  often  defrauded  of  their  fees.  The  law,  as  a 
principle,  regards  every  man  as  honest  until  he  is  proved 
to  be  guilty,  and  so,  in  the  medical  profession,  every  pa- 
tient is  considered  to  be  honest  until  the  reverse  is  found 
to  be  the  case — a  contingency,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  by  no 
means  uncommon.     I  have  done  a  large  share  of  what  in 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  155 

this  countr}'  is  called  an  office  practice,  or  what  in  Great 
Britain  is  known  as  a  chamber  business,  and  I  have  never 
refused  to  prescribe  gratuitously  for  any  one,  however  poor 
or  humble,  provided  he  informed  me  beforehand  that  he 
was  unable  to  compensate  me  for  my  services.  On  the 
other  hand,  I  have  often,  after  a  laborious  examination  of 
a  case,  torn  my  prescription  in  the  teeth  of  my  patient 
when  he  told  me,  after  the  work  was  done,  that  he  had  no 
money,  especially  when  he  had  about  him  any  appearance 
of  gentility.  If  he  was  dull  or  ignorant,  or,  to  use  a  com- 
mon expression,  "did  not  seem  to  know  better,"  I  some- 
times forgave  the  offence.  "The  laborer  is  worthy  of  his 
hire, ' '  and  people  have  no  right  to  steal  the  time  and  ser- 
vices of  a  physician  any  more  than  they  have  to  steal  gro- 
ceries, dr}'goods,  or  any  other  commodity.  The  doctor 
must  live  by  his  labors  ;  and,  although  our  profession  is  a 
liberal  one,  we  ought  to  make  a  proper  distinction  between 
the  poor,  properly  so  called,  and  those  who  are  able,  with- 
out any  inconvenience,  to  compensate  us  for  our  services. 
Boerhaave  used  to  say  that  the  poor  are  our  best  patients, 
because  God  is  their  paymaster.  All  this  is  ver}^  well  ; 
but  there  comes  a  time  when  a  man  looks  for  something 
more  substantial  than  a  patient's  mere  "God  bless  you, 
doctor!"  There  are  many  persons  in  every  community 
who  would  rather  part  with  their  eye-teeth  than  a  five  dol- 
lar bill  in  payment  of  a  physician's  fee.  In  my  younger 
days,  and,  indeed,  until  after  the  age  of  fifty,  I  seldom 
neglected  the  call  of  a  poor  patient ;  and  in  my  capacity  as 
a  clinical  teacher  at  the  college  I  perfonn  constantly  an  im- 
mense amount  of  gratuitous  work,  including  many  opera- 
tions involving  great  skill,  much  anxiety,  and  vast  labor 
during  the  after-treatment.  I  am  sure  I  render  thus  every 
year,  at  the  most  moderate  calculation,  services  to  the 
value  of  several  thousand  dollars.  It  was  a  common 
remark  of  my  wife,  that  at  my  office  I  was  generally 
more  polite  and  attentive  to  the  poor  than  to  the  richer 


156  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

class  of  patients  ;  and  I  was  induced  to  do  this  because  a 
poor  person's  time  is  generally  more  valuable  than  that  of 
one  in  better  circumstances. 

A  well-dressed  young  man,  of  the  blackleg  order,  with 
large  rings  on  his  fingers,  and  a  big  watch-chain  on  his 
breast,  strutted  one  day,  during  m^y  residence  at  Louis- 
ville, into  my  office,  saying  he  had  come  from  Indiana 
to  get  me  to  make  a  very  careful  examination  of  his 
case,  adding  that  he  had  already  consulted  quite  a  num- 
ber of  physicians,  who  had  all  come  to  a  different  con- 
clusion in  regard  to  its  character.  After  having  handed 
him  my  prescription,  he  rose  to  take  his  departure,  when 
I  said,  "You  have  forgotten  my  fee."  "Oh!"  he  re- 
plied, ' '  excuse  me ;  I  have  really  no  money  with  me. ' ' 
"You  are  then  deliberately  cheating  me,  are  you?"  And 
thus  saying,  I  locked  the  door  and  rang  my  office-bell, 
which  was  promptly  answered.  "My  servant  will  take 
care  of  your  watch  until  you  can  get  the  amount  of  my 
fee."  He  went  off,  but  returned  in  a  few  minutes  with 
the  money,  which,  of  course,  he  had  at  the  time  in  his 
pocket.  The  next  day,  in  mentioning  the  circumstance 
to  several  of  my  more  prominent  professional  brethren,  I 
found  that  the  fellow  had  consulted  each  of  them,  and 
had  come  off  scot-free  in  every  instance.  If  there  were 
a  proper  esprit  de  corps  among  medical  men  in  regard  to 
a  just  appreciation  of  their  services,  there  would  be  less 
cheating  on  the  part  of  their  patients,  and  the  profession 
would  be  placed  upon  an  incomparably  better  footing,  as 
regards  its  own  dignity  and  the  respect  due  to  it  by  the 
public.  I  have  never  turned  away  a  poor  patient  from 
my  office  without  prescribing  for  his  ailments,  often  only 
after  the  most  laborious  and  painstaking  examination ; 
but  I  hate  an  impostor,  and  never  allow  myself  to  be  im- 
posed upon. 

My  professorships  in  the  different  medical  schools  with 
which  I  have   been   connected  have,   up   to   the   present 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  157 

time — Febniar}',  1870 — yielded  me  about  one  hundred  and 
ten  thousand  dollars. 

The  income  from  my  books  has  thus  far  been  about 
eighteen  thousand  dollars,  of  which  the  greater  portion 
has  been  derived  from  my  System  of  Surgery.  As  I  have 
already  stated,  the  first  edition  of  the  Pathological  Anat- 
omy brought  me  nothing,  in  consequence  of  the  failure 
of  my  Boston  publishers.  For  the  second  edition  Bar- 
rington  &  Haswell  paid  me  twelve  hundred  dollars ; 
and  for  the  third  I  received  one  thousand  dollars  from 
Blanchard  &  Lea.  The  first  edition  of  my  Treatise  on 
the  Urinar}^  Organs  yielded  me  nothing ;  for  the  second, 
if  I  mistake  not,  I  received  one  thousand  dollars.  For  the 
work  on  Foreign  Bodies  in  the  Air-Passages,  issued  by 
Blanchard  &  Lea,  and  the  American  Medical  Biography, 
published  by  Lindsay  &  Blakiston,  I  was  not  paid  anything. 
The  latter  work,  indeed,  cost  me  at  least  two  hundred  dol- 
lars in  the  way  of  outlays  of  various  kinds. 

My  first  effort  as  a  public  teacher  was  a  lecture  on  Gen- 
eral Anatomy,  which  I  delivered  at  the  Franklin  Institute, 
Philadelphia,  in  June,  1829,  a  little  upwards  of  a  year  after 
my  graduation.  I  had,  the  summer  previously,  as  men- 
tioned in  a  former  page,  published  a  translation  of  Bayle 
and  Hollard's  work  on  this  subject,  of  which  I  had,  more- 
over, made  a  special  study  in  other  ways,  so  that  I  was 
very  well  informed  upon  it ;  and,  as  no  one  had  ever  given 
any  formal  lectures  upon  it,  I  flattered  myself,  young  and 
inexperienced  as  I  was,  that  I  could  make  myself  suflfi- 
ciently  interesting  to  attract  a  good  class.  In  this,  how- 
ever, I  was  mistaken.  The  Introductory  was  advertised 
to  be  given  on  a  certain  day ;  and,  although  it  was  highly 
complimented  by  several  of  my  friends,  the  audience  was 
so  slim  that  I  had  no  encouragement  to  proceed  with  the 
course.  This  was  a  sad  disappointment  to  me ;  the  more 
so,  as  I  had  hoped  the  occasion  would  afford  me  an  oppor- 
tunity of  earning  a  little  reputation.     My  great  ambition 


158  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

at  that  time  was  to  become  a  teacher  of  anatomy,  a  study 
to  which  I  had  devoted  great  attention  during  my  student 
life,  and  which  I  cultivated  for  many  years  with  unabated 
ardor  and  enthusiasm.  Soon  after  my  settlement  at  Easton 
a  friend,  without  my  knowledge,  made  an  effort  to  procure 
for  me  the  chair  of  Anatomy  in  the  Washington  Medical 
College  at  Baltimore,  then  recently  organized ;  but,  from 
some  cause  not  now  remembered  by  me,  he  failed  to  accom- 
plish his  object. 

My  next  effort  at  public  teaching  was  as  Demonstrator 
of  Anatomy  in  the  Medical  College  of  Ohio,  in  the  attic 
of  which,  as  stated  in  a  former  page,  I  delivered  three  lec- 
tures a  week,  for  two  winters,  on  visceral  and  surgical 
anatomy,  and  I  have  always  thought  that  those  were  the 
most  interesting  and  successful  courses  I  ever  gave  upon 
any  subject.  I  certainly  never  lectured  with  more  force 
and  enthusiasm  at  any  period  of  my  life. 

In  the  Cincinnati  College  I  lectured  for  four  years  on 
Pathological  Anatomy,  including  the  structure  and  func- 
tions of  the  tissues,  and  a  general  description  of  the  vis- 
cera, with  an  account  of  their  color,  consistence,  weight, 
and  dimensions,  as  preliminary  to  the  consideration  of 
their  morbid  alterations.  I  lost  no  opportunity  to  investi- 
gate these  topics,  so  important  in  their  bearing  upon  the 
elucidation  of  my  chair.  These  examinations,  the  results 
of  which  were  afterwards  embodied  in  my  Elements  of 
Pathological  Anatomy,  were  performed  with  great  care  and 
patience ;  and  although  they  were  not  conducted  on  so 
large  a  scale  as  some  that  preceded  them,  as,  for  example, 
those  of  Bouillaud  on  the  heart  and  Sims  on  the  brain,  yet 
they  embraced  certain  organs,  as  the  pancreas  and  prostate 
gland,  which,  as  far  as  my  information  extends,  had  never 
received  any  attention  of  this  kind  before. 

When  I  received  my  appointment  as  Professor  of  Patho- 
logical Anatomy  in  the  Cincinnati  College,  I  was  thirty 
years  of  age,  and  I  was  placed  side  by  side  with  teachers 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   AT.  D.  159 

of  experience  and  acknowledged  ability.  I  spared  no 
effort  to  acquit  myself  in  as  creditable  a  manner  as  pos- 
sible. During  the  four  months  that  preceded  the  opening 
of  the  course  I  not  only  made  full  notes,  but  wrote  out, 
nearly  in  full,  a  number  of  my  lectures,  which  I  afterwards 
delivered  in  great  measure — indeed,  often  entirely — extem- 
poraneously. After  the  first  session  I  had  acquired  suffi- 
cient confidence  to  trust  myself  merely  with  "heads,"  as 
they  are  termed,  and  dispensed  with  manuscript  alto- 
gether— a  circumstance  which  gave  me  more  ease  and 
freedom,  and  greatly  improved  my  power  of  utterance  as 
an  effective  teacher. 

I  have  now  taught  surgery  for  thirty  years — i84O-'70 — 
and  during  all  this  time  I  have  invariably  spoken  extem- 
poraneously. The  only  didactic  lecture,  indeed,  that  I 
have  ever  written  was  one  on  scrofula,  which  I  committed 
to  the  flames  long  ago.  A  man  who  understands  his  sub- 
ject should  never  appear  before  his  class  with  his  manu- 
script. He  should  be  so  thoroughly  imbued  with  it — 
should  have  ever^^thing  so  completely  at  his  tongue's  end 
— as  to  let  it  off  as  if  it  were  so  much  steam,  blowing  and 
puffing,  and  throwing  himself,  heart  and  soul,  into  his 
matter,  however  trite  or  uninteresting  it  may  be  in  itself. 
No  man  can  talk  so  as  to  enchain  the  attention  of  his 
pupils,  or  make  any  permanent  impression,  if  he  reads  his 
lecture.  He  is  as  one  tied  hand  and  foot,  deprived  of  mo- 
tion and  power  of  expression.  I  can  imagine  no  more 
painful  situation. 

It  is  a  difficult  matter  for  a  man  to  form  a  just  estimate 
of  himself  as  a  lectiirer.  Indeed,  it  may  savor  of  vanity 
even  to  make  the  effort.  I  have,  however,  now  been  a 
teacher  for  upwards  of  a  third  of  a  century,  so  that  I  may 
reasonably  be  excused  if  I  speak  of  myself  in  this  connec- 
tion. One  evidence  of  my  success  as  a  teacher  is  that  I 
have  been  a  professor  in  not  less  than  five  medical  schools, 
and  that  I  had  calls  to  nearly  as  many  more.     If  enthusi- 


i6o  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

asm  constitutes  one  of  the  qualities  of  a  successful  lecturer, 
then  I  must  have  been  successful,  for  I  certainly  have 
possessed  this  attribute  in  a  very  high  degree ;  and  I  think 
I  may  truly  affirm  that  I  never  went  before  my  class  without 
a  thorough  comprehension  of  my  subject,  or  without  pre- 
vious study  and  meditation.  In  this  way  I  always  felt 
fresh,  well  booked  up  in  regard  to  the  latest  additions 
and  improvements.  Order  and  system  were  among  my 
more  important  attributes  as  a  teacher.  I  never  failed 
to  begin  at  the  first  round  of  the  ladder,  and  to  go  on 
gradually  ascending  until  I  reached  the  top.  If  a  man 
has  neither  order  nor  system,  he  knows  nothing  of  the 
duties  of  a  teacher.  They  are  essential  elements  in  every 
discourse.  But  a  person  may  have  both,  and  yet  be  a  dull 
fellow.  Of  this  I  think  no  one  could  ever  accuse  me.  A 
lecturer  is,  of  course,  not  always  equal  to  himself.  The 
fleetest  horse  sometimes  ' '  lets  dov/n, ' '  or  comes  out  last. 
A  certain  amount  of  animation  is  indispensable  to  a 
teacher.  He  must  be  excited  ;  he  must  show  that  he  feels 
an  interest  in  what  he  says  and  does.  He  must  be  fully 
alive.  If  he  is  dull  or  stupid,  his  pupils  will  feel  the 
effect,  and  sink  into  listless  indifference.  I  have  some- 
times thought  that  I  am  too  boisterous  and  too  excited  ; 
but  this  I  cannot  help ;  I  must  feel  what  I  say,  or  I 
cannot  proceed.  I  like  to  look  my  pupils  in  the  face,  to 
shake  my  fist  at  them,  and  to  stamp  my  foot,  as  General 
Jackson  did  when  he  wanted  to  be  emphatic  and  swore 
"by  the  Eternal,"  in  order  to  impress  upon  their  minds 
their  duty,  as  students  of  a  great,  noble,  and  exalted  pro- 
fession. Rufus  Choate  was  never  more  earnest  in  address- 
ing a  court  and  jury  than  I  have  often  been  in  speaking  to 
my  class  on  questions  of  great  and  vital  importance  of  a 
professional  character.  Who  would  not,  inspired  by  the 
occasion,  be  eloquent  when  he  is  addressing  himself  to  a 
body  of  ingenuous  students,  in  quest  of  knowledge  designed 
to  heal  the  sick,  to  open  the  eyes  of  the  blind,  to  make  the 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  i6i 

deaf  hear,  to  enable  the  lame  to  walk,  and  to  loose  the 
tongue  of  the  dumb  ?  I  never  enter  the  lecture-room  with- 
out a  deep  sense  of  the  responsibility  of  my  office — without 
a  feeling  that  I  have  a  solemn  duty  to  perform — and  that 
upon  what  I  may  utter  during  the  hour  may  depend  the 
happiness  or  misery  of  hundreds,  if  not  thousands,  of 
human  beings. 

The  opening  portion  of  my  course  on  Surgery  has  always 
been  devoted  to  the  discussion  of  principles,  without  a 
knowledge  of  which  no  student  can  possibly  make  any 
true  progress.  Not  fewer  than  seven  weeks  have  usually 
been  given  to  this  object,  the  topics  embraced  in  it  being 
inflammation  and  its  consequences,  syphilis,  struma,  tu- 
mors, and  wounds.  These  topics  being  disposed  of,  I  then 
lectured  upon  the  diseases  and  injuries  of  particular  re- 
gions, organs,  and  tissues,  rapidly  discussing  each  subject 
as  it  came  up  in  proper  order ;  so  that  by  the  end  of  the 
session  the  course  may  be  said  to  have  generally  been  a 
complete  one.  I  never  dealt  in  hypothesis,  conjecture, 
or  speculation.  My  plan  has  alwa3's  been  to  confine  my- 
self as  much  as  possible  to  matters  of  fact,  and  to  make 
whatever  I  said  my  own,  as  if  it  were  the  result  of  my 
own  experience,  reading,  and  reflection.  I  am  convinced 
that  any  teaching  that  does  not  rest  upon  such  a  basis  is 
worthless. 

Many  teachers,  American  as  well  as  European,  think 
that  they  have  done  all  that  duty  requires  of  them  when 
they  have  instructed  their  pupils  in  practical  and  oper- 
ative surgery.  The  principles  of  surgery  are  the  prin- 
ciples of  medicine,  or,  in  other  words,  the  principles  of 
the  art  of  healing,  and  therefore,  unless  a  practitioner  is 
fully  acquainted  with  them,  he  is  utterly  unfit  for  his  busi- 
ness. Most  physicians  and  surgeons,  for  this  very  reason, 
are  routinists.  They  leave  the  lecture-room  with  the 
merest  modicum  of  information,  which  is  never  improved 
by  subsequent  training,  observation,  reading,  or  reflection. 


1 62  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

When  I  die  I  wish  no  better  epitaph  than  this — "A  teacher 
of  Principles." 

A  part  of  the  first  lecture  of  my  course  has  always  been 
employed  in  la}-ing  down  a  general  plan  of  it,  with  an  ac- 
count of  text-books,  and  the  manner  in  which  the  student 
should  deport  himself  in  the  amphitheatre.  I  never  failed 
to  lay  down,  distinctly  and  emphatically,  my  rules  upon 
this  subject,  so  that  the  class  should  fully  comprehend  my 
wishes.  Punctuality,  erect  posture,  and  perfect  silence 
were  indispensable  conditions.  I  never  tolerated  irregu- 
larity of  any  kind,  lying  down  upon  the  benches,  whisper- 
ing, reading  of  letters,  going  out  before  the  hour  was  over, 
or  entering  after  the  lecture  had  commenced.  The  class, 
in  consequence  of  this  precaution,  was  always  most  orderly, 
respectful,  and  attentive.  The  discipline  of  my  room  was 
perfect,  and  it  was  therefore  a  very  uncommon  thing  for 
me  to  be  obliged  to  rebuke  a  student.  Claptrap  of  any 
kind  I  never  could  bear.  Nothing  was  more  offensive  to 
me  than  applause  as  I  entered  the  amphitheatre,  and  I 
never  permitted  it  after  the  first  lecture.  I  always  said, 
"Gentlemen,  such  a  noise  is  more  befitting  the  pit  of 
a  theatre  or  a  circus  than  a  temple  dedicated,  not  to  ^scu- 
lapius,  but  to  Almighty  God,  for  the  study  of  disease  and 
accident,  and  your  preparation  for  the  great  duties  of  your 
profession.  There  is  something  awfully  solemn  in  a  pro- 
fession which  deals  with  life  and  death  ;  and  I  desire  at  the 
very  threshold  of  this  course  of  lectures  to  impress  upon 
your  minds  its  sacred  and  responsible  character,  that  you 
may  be  induced  to  make  the  best  possible  use  of  your  time, 
and  conduct  yourselves  in  a  manner  worthy  of  the  dignity 
of  Christian   gentlemen." 

Such  appeals  had  always  a  most  salutary  effect ;  and, 
although  I  was  a  rigid  disciplinarian,  I  am  quite  sure 
that  I  always  enjoyed  the  esteem  and  affection  of  every 
member  of  my  class.  A  teacher  who  cannot  command 
the  respect   and  attention  of  his  pupils  has  no  business 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  163 

in  the  lecture-room  ;  he  is  out  of  place,  and  the  sooner  he 
quits  the  better. 

This  practice  of  applauding  must  have  been  borrowed 
from  the  stage.  Henderson  was  wont  to  say  that  no  actor 
could  perform  well  unless  he  was  systematically  flattered 
both  on  and  off  the  stage  ;  and  it  is  reported  of  Liston  that 
he  considered  applause  so  necessar}'^  to  good  acting  that  he 
liked  to  see  even  a  small  dog  wag  his  tail  in  approbation 
of  his  efforts. 

The  first  element  in  the  art  of  teachingr  is  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  one's  subject,  a  complete  mastery  of  what 
one  is  obliged  to  talk  about ;  the  next,  the  faculty  of  pre- 
senting it  in  a  clear,  agreeable,  and  satisfactory  man- 
ner ;  and  the  third,  the  ability  to  keep  alive  the  atten- 
tion of  one's  audience.  The  last  is  often  materially  aided 
by  the  recital  of  an  appropriate  anecdote,  or  an  illustrative 
case.  In  the  former  I  never  indulged  much,  and  I  have 
especially  had  a  contempt  for  vulgar  anecdotes,  of  which 
some  teachers  make  such  free  use,  and  which  are  always 
out  of  place.  Cases  illustrative  of  particular  points  of 
practice  never  fail,  if  well  told,  to  make  a  good  impres- 
sion, and  are  often  more  effective  than  the  most  inte- 
resting anecdotes.  A  lecturer  is  of  no  account  unless 
he  can  move  as  well  as  instruct  his  pupils.  If  he  can- 
not do  this,  much  of  his  teaching  must  fall  by  the  way- 
side upon  barren  soil. 

A  teacher  should  be  neat  in  his  habits,  dress,  and  ad- 
dress before  his  class,  choice  in  the  selection  of  his  lan- 
guage, and  thoroughly  systematic  in  the  discussion  of  his 
topics.  Slovenliness  of  mind  and  body  has  a  demor- 
alizing effect,  and  cannot  therefore  be  too  pointedly  con- 
demned. Dr.  Charles  D.  Aleigs,  one  of  my  colleagues,  for 
many  years  Professor  of  INIidwifery  in  the  Jefferson  Medical 
College,  was  one  of  the  most  attractive  and  charming  of 
teachers,  but  rarely,  if  ever,  systematic.  George  McClel- 
lan,  the  founder  of  the  school,  was  always  brilliant,  always 


1 64  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

interesting  and  instructive,  but,  like  Meigs,  superficial 
and  scattering,  apparently  without  any  definite  aim,  fore- 
thought, or  preparation.  Drake  was  a  great  lecturer ; 
but  unfortunate  with  first  course  students,  who  could  never 
follow  or  understand  him,  because  he  always  overshot  his 
mark,  not  having  the  faculty  of  adapting  himself  to  their 
comprehension.  Some  lecturers  are  learned  dunces.  They 
think  they  must  give  an  account  of  the  opinions  of  every- 
body that  ever  wrote  upon  the  subject  they  are  discussing, 
perhaps  omitting  their  own,  and  in  this  way  they  are  sure 
to  fall  far  short  of  being  successful  and  agxeeable  teachers. 
I  have  heard  of  a  certain  professor  of  surgery  in  a  neigh- 
boring city  who  entertained  his  class  four  times  a  week, 
for  nearly  two  months,  with  an  account  of  the  different 
operations  for  stone  in  the  bladder,  a  subject  which  should 
never  occupy  more  than  three  lectures  at  the  utmost  in  a 
didactic  course,  such  as  we  are  restricted  to  in  this  country. 
Dr.  Short,  the  Professor  of  Materia  Medica  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Louisville,  a  most  amiable  and  excellent  man,  and 
a  most  accomplished  botanist,  always  read  his  lectures, 
and,  if  he  had  occasion  to  extemporize,  even  for  a  moment, 
he  invariably  raised  his  eyes  over  the  heads  of  the  class, 
never,  owing  to  some  peculiar  habit,  or  rather  what  may 
be  called  sheepish  modesty,  looking  them  in  the  face. 
Charles  Caldwell,  a  man  of  noble  presence  and  pedantic 
style,  was  a  model  of  a  lecturer,  walking  to  and  fro  upon 
the  rostrum  like  a  caged  lion.  He  had  practised  oratory 
before  the  mirror,  possessed  fine  powers  of  elocution,  and 
had  a  mind  well  stored  with  professional  and  general  in- 
formation ;  and  yet  I  doubt  that  he  ever  made  a  physi- 
ologist of  any  of  his  pupils.  He  was  a  declaimer,  a 
speculator,  not  up  to  the  existing  state  of  the  science, 
notwithstanding  his  learning,  and  he  was  therefore  a 
miserable  teacher.  Dr.  John  Esten  Cooke  always  lectured 
on  his  fingers.  Meigs  never  talked  so  well  to  his  class  as 
when  he  was  swinging  his  spectacles  in  his  hand. 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  165 

Eccentricity  sometimes  adds  interest  to  a  lecturer.  Aber- 
nethy  always  lectured  with  his  hands  deeply  buried  in  his 
breeches'  pockets.  McClellan  could  never  talk  without 
having  hold  of  his  watch-chain,  or  some  other  object,  per- 
haps a  knife  or  pair  of  scissors,  much  to  the  horror  of  the 
occupants  of  the  first  row  of  benches.  William  P.  C. 
Barton  was  a  coxcomb.  He  generally  appeared  before  his 
class  with  two  vests  of  different  colors,  which  he  never 
wore  on  two  consecutive  days,  notwithstanding  his  pov- 
erty. A  contemptuous  smile,  or  curl  of  the  upper  lip, 
was  one  of  his  constant  concomitants.  He  was  always 
facetious,  and  generally  interesting. 

Dewees,  an  authoritative  teacher,  and  a  practitioner  who 
delivered  upwards  of  ten  thousand  women,  was  the  type 
of  an  unrefined  lecturer,  abounding  in  coarse  anecdotes 
and  sayings  which  often  disgusted  the  more  cultivated 
members  of  his  class ;  and  yet  he  was  a  most  successful 
instructor,  every  student  swearing  by  him,  for  he  was  un- 
sparing in  his  criticisms  of  the  doctrines  and  practice  of 
his  predecessors  and  contemporaries,  and  most  dogmatical 
in  the  assertion  of  his  own  views  and  opinions.  He  was 
by  far  the  most  positive  teacher  and  writer  on  mid- 
wifery in  his  day  in  this  countr>\  He  always  lectured  in 
the  afternoon,  after  dinner,  often,  it  was  said,  under  the 
influence  of  vinous  potations. 

The  dogmatic  teacher  is,  in  the  main,  the  most  suc- 
cessful teacher,  the  one  most  likely  to  impress  himself 
effectually  and  indelibly  upon  the  minds  of  young  medical 
students.  We  like  to  listen  to  a  man  who  speaks  as  if 
he  were  thoroughly  saturated  with  his  subject,  as  if  there 
were  no  doubt  of  the  truth  of  what  he  was  uttering,  as  if 
he  himself  fully  believed  in  the  power  and  efficacy  of  what 
he  is  trying  to  instil  into  the  brains  of  his  auditors.  No 
teacher  ever  caused  a  more  profound  sensation  than  Para- 
celsus when,  seated  in  his  chair  at  Basle,  he  deliberately 
burnt  the  works  of  his  predecessors,  sending  their  very 


1 66  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

ashes,  as  it  were,  to  the  infernal  regions.  The  students 
stared,  and  the  medical  world  was  taken  aback,  as  the 
news  spread  over  Europe,  carrying  the  fame  of  the  eccen- 
tric professor  into  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  civilized 
world.  It  was  an  act  most  cunningly  conceived  and  exe- 
cuted, and  well  calculated  to  arrest  the  attention,  not  only 
of  medical  men,  but  of  mankind  at  large.  Like  Byron, 
Paracelsus  woke  up  in  the  morning  and  found  himself 
famous.  If  Dewees  did  not  commit  to  flame  the  writings 
of  his  predecessors  and  contemporaries,  he  scorched  them 
with  the  fire  of  his  criticism  and  his  sarcasm,  and  thus 
doomed  them  to  a  worse  fate. 

An  Irishman's  brogue  has  often  made  his  fortune.  His 
lisp  and  Scotch  accent  made  Granville  Sharp  Pattison 
one  of  the  most  interesting  lecturers  of  his  day.  Few 
men,  in  any  age  or  country^,  ever  enjoyed  such  widespread 
popularity  as  teachers  of  anatomy  as  this  distinguished 
Scotchman,  for  one  winter  my  colleague  in  the  New  York 
University.  His  lisp,  his  accent,  his  enthusiasm  were 
irresistible.  I  have  myself  never  entirely  surmounted  my 
German  accent.  I  presume  that  it  is  at  times  very  con- 
spicuous in  the  lecture-room  ;  but  I  have  it  also  in  ordi- 
nary conversation,  so  much  so  that  when  I  visited  Edin- 
burgh, in  1869,  Simpson,  Syme,  and  others  insisted  upon 
it  that  I  was  a  Scotchman.  No  man,  perhaps,  with  any  pre- 
tension to  refinement  and  education  ever  had  the  Scotch 
accent  in  a  more  extraordinary  degree  than  Dr.  Chalmers. 
When  the  celebrated  Edinburgh  divine  for  the  first  time  vis- 
ited England  he  called  upon  Southey,  who  nearly  fell  into 
fits  when  Chalmers  uttered  the  word  "saxtain"  for  sixteen. 
The  Lake  poet,  unaccustomed  to  such  a  horrible  mutilation 
of  the  English  language,  was  almost  mortally  shocked. 
He,  however,  speedily  recovered  from  his  depression ;  for 
when  a  few  days  after  this  event  he  heard  Chalmers 
preach,  he  was  so  profoundly  and  so  agreeably  impressed 
by  his  eloquence  and  logic  that  he  readily  pardoned  his 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  167 

barbarous  pronunciation.  He  had  never  before  listened 
to  such  pulpit  oratory  and  enthusiasm. 

A  good,  clear,  resonant,  well-modulated  voice  is  a  great 
lever  in  a  lecture-room,  which  seldom  fails  to  command 
attention.  I  have  known  a  number  of  teachers  to  fail 
because  of  their  feeble  voice.  The  object  of  the  student 
is  to  learn  ;  but  how  can  he  understand  what  is  said  unless 
the  teacher  has  sufficient  vocal  powder  to  make  himself 
heard  over  the  entire  lecture-room?  Slow  and  rapid 
speaking  are  both  bad ;  the  one  fatigues  and  invariably 
causes  drowsiness,  the  other  overwhelms  and  confuses  the 
listener.  Few  men  can  catch  the  happy  medium ;  and 
thoroughly  successful  and  agreeable  teachers  are,  and 
always  will  be,  scarce.  Dunglison  was  always  brimful  of 
his  subject  as  he  stood  before  his  class,  but  he  was  monot- 
onous, and  did  not  sufficiently  emphasize  the  great  points 
of  his  discourse.  To  make  himself  impressive  a  lecturer 
must  constantly  italicize,  and  not  unfrequently  bring  down 
his  fist,  to  give  force  to  his  utterance. 

Many  of  our  professors  are  slow  of  speech,  mumbling 
or  muttering  their  words,  and  thus  failing  to  make  them- 
selves heard  and  felt  by  their  pupils.  To  such  men,  whom 
God  never  intended  for  such  positions,  the  language  of  the 
great  Hebrew  legislator  is  eminently  applicable :  "  O  my 
Lord,"  said  Moses,  "I  am  not  eloquent,  neither  heretofore, 
nor  since  thou  hast  spoken  unto  thy  servant ;  but  I  am 
slow  of  speech,  and  of  a  slow  tongue."  But  these  men 
differ  from  Moses  in  this,  that  while  he  was,  by  the 
special  favor  of  Jehovah,  assisted  by  his  brother  Aaron 
as  his  spokesman,  and  was  himself  deputed  to  perform 
miracles,  they  proceed  in  a  stammering,  halting,  hesi- 
tating way  all  their  lives,  much  to  the  detriment  of  their 
auditors. 

Many  teachers  lecture  well  in  a  conversational  style — a 
style  which  I  have  myself  never  fancied,  and  which  is  only 
effective  when  it  is  associated  with  a  good,  strong  voice 


i68  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

and  commanding  presence,  such  as  are  combined,  for  ex- 
ample, in  Wendell  Phillips.  The  most  noisy  and  earnest 
lecturer  I  have  ever  listened  to  was  Dr.  Drake,  and  he  cer- 
tainlv  was  one  of  the  most  interesting-  and  fascinatinof  men 
in  the  presence  of  students  whom  I  have  ever  heard.  A 
good  voice  in  a  lecturer  is  to  a  medical  class  what  the 
spur  is  to  a  rider,  or  a  whip  to  a  driver,  calculated  to  keep 
alive  the  attention  of  the  student  and  to  goad  on  the  weary- 
animal.  Drake's  manner  always  reminded  me  of  that 
of  an  old  Methodist  preacher  whom  I  was  wont  to  hear 
when  I  was  a  youth,  and  who  seemed  as  if  he  were 
wrestling  with  the  Lord  for  a  special  blessing  upon  his 
people.  I,  too,  have  been  an  earnest  teacher,  and  I  doubt 
whether  any  one,  as  he  stood  before  a  medical  class,  felt 
more  keenly  than  myself  the  importance  of  what  he  was 
saying  and  doing. 

There  is  a  wide  difference  between  a  good  lecturer  and 
a  good  teacher.  The  distinction  is  important,  but  not 
always  well  understood  or  clearly  defined.  A  man  may 
talk  well,  and  express  himself  in  the  most  elegant  and 
scholarly  manner,  and  yet  may  fail  to  impart  his  know- 
ledge. The  art  of  teaching  is  a  peculiar  one,  not,  like 
poetry,  exactly  a  gift  of  nature,  and  yet  so  nearly  approxi- 
mating it  as  to  be  almost  equivalent  to  it. 

Professor  Samuel  Jackson,  of  the  University  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, was  an  excellent  talker  but  a  most  uninstructive 
teacher,  "pleased  with  a  rattle,  tickled  with  a  straw," 
and  upsetting  to-morrow  the  doctrines  that  he  expounded 
the  day  before.  Dr.  John  Esten  Cooke,  on  the  contrary, 
who  was  for  many  years  Caldwell's  colleague,  made  numer- 
ous converts  to  his  doctrines  and  exercised  a  widespread 
influence  over  the  minds  of  his  pupils,  although  he  was  one 
of  the  dullest  and  most  arid  lecturers  that  could  possibly  be 
imagined.  He  was  a  successful  teacher.  The  seed  which 
he  put  in  the  earth  sprang  up  and  produced  abundant 
fruit — unfortunately,  however,  not  of  the  best  character. 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  169 

My  knowledge  of  pathological  anatomy,  acquired  in 
early  life,  has  been  of  immense  benefit  to  me  as  a 
teacher,  a  practitioner,  and  a  writer,  and  it  is  only  sur- 
prising to  me  that  there  are  so  few  practitioners  in  this 
country  who  have  taken  advantage  of  this  study.  I  do  not 
believe  that  I  have  ever  delivered  a  lecture  on  surgery  in 
which  I  did  not  freely  avail  myself  of  my  knowledge  of  it 
as  a  means  of  illustrating  every  subject  that  I  had  occasion 
to  discuss.  A  knowledge  of  pathological  anatomy  is  the 
very  basis  of  diagnosis ;  and  when  it  is  considered  how 
important  it  is  that  a  physician  should  be  able  to  deter- 
mine the  nature  of  a  disease  before  he  institutes  his  treat- 
ment, it  is  not  a  little  surprising  that  this  department  of 
medicine  should  be  taught  in  so  few  of  our  schools.  This 
omission  is  one  of  the  crving  sins  of  the  present  day. 
Ever^'thing,  however  irrelevant  or  useless,  is  taught  to 
the  exclusion  of  morbid  anatomy.  I  only  wish  that 
every  medical  college  in  the  country  were  compelled 
to  introduce  it  into  its  curriculum  of  studies.  To  make 
room  for  it  we  niig-ht  well  dispense  with  some  of  the  use- 

o  J. 

less  teachings  in  chemistry,  materia  medica,  physiology, 
and  even  midwifery-,  so  characteristic  of  the  present  day. 

It  takes  many  elements  to  make  a  great  man,  many  to 
make  a  great  teacher,  writer,  and  practitioner;  and  there 
are  few  persons  in  whom  these  elements  are  so  hap- 
pily blended  as  to  work  out  the  desired  result.  Great 
genius  is  not  by  any  means  a  necessar}'  ingredient  of  these 
qualities.  To  accomplish  great  ends  demands  patience, 
perseverance,  unwearying  application,  order  and  system, 
and  a  definite  aim — in  a  word,  talent  rather  than  genius. 
Genius  invents ;  talent  applies.  The  only  genius  I  pos- 
sess is  the  genius  of  industry  ;  if  I  have  any  other,  I  have 
not  been  able  to  discover  it.  The  position  which  I  have 
attained  in  my  profession  has  been  achieved  by  hard 
blows,  by  no  special  intellectual  endowment,  by  no  spe- 
cial gifts  from  God,   by  no   special  favor  from  man,  but 


170 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


by  my  own  unaided  efforts,  continued  steadily  and  per- 
severingly  through  a  long  series  of  years,  during  which 
a  kind  Providence  afforded  me  sound  health,  lofty  ambi- 
tion, and  unflinching  fidelity  to  my  profession. 

From  the  day  on  which  I  received  my  diploma,  a 
period  of  forty-two  years,  I  have  been  a  most  laborious 
and  devoted  student,  true  to  the  best  interests  of  the 
profession,  and  one  of  the  most  faithful  supporters  of 
its  honor,  dignity,  and  advancement.  My  mind  has  ever 
been  on  the  alert  to  gather  information  from  every  avail- 
able source.  I  have  been  an  incessant  reader,  and,  I  be- 
lieve, not  altogether  a  bad  observ^er  of  nature.  I  have 
witnessed  all  kinds  of  diseases  and  injuries,  have  tried 
numerous  remedies,  and  have  performed  many  operations. 
]\Iy  voice  has  often  been  raised  in  favor  of  progress.  I 
have  seen  many  abuses  in  my  profession,  and  have  passed 
through  several  revolutions  of  treatment,  in  which  certain 
articles  of  the  materia  medica,  at  one  time  considered  as 
most  valuable  and  efficacious,  have  been  abandoned  as 
worthless,  if  not  positively  injurious  ;  and  yet,  through  all 
these  changes,  so  singular  in  their  character,  I  have  never, 
I  think  I  am  safe  in  asserting,  lost  sight  of  common  sense 
or  the  results  of  an  enlightened  personal  and  general 
experience. 

Although  I  had  a  great  fondness  for  surgery,  my  prac- 
tice in  the  early  part  of  my  life  was  chiefly  medical. 
The  operations  which  I  performed  were  few  in  num- 
ber; nor  were  they  of  much  importance  until  the  latter 
period  of  my  residence  at  Cincinnati,  and  during  my 
residence  at  Louisville,  when  my  reputation  as  an  opera- 
tive surgeon  rapidly  increased,  and  patients  visited  me 
from  various  sections  of  the  country  for  relief 

I  do  not  know  that  nature  ever  intended  me  for  a 
great  surgeon.  I  was  the  victim  of  a  native  timidity 
which  was  certainly  at  variance  with  such  an  assumption. 
The  sight  of  blood  was  extremely  disagreeable  to  me — so 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  171 

much  so  that  on  one  occasion  during  the  early  period  of 
my  pupilage,  while  holding  a  basin  for  a  fellow-student 
engaged  in  bleeding  a  patient,  I  came  so  near  fainting 
that,  if  I  had  not  abandoned  my  hold  and  sought  refuge 
in  the  open  air,  I  would,  I  am  sure,  have  dropped  down  in 
a  state  of  unconsciousness.  It  was  some  time  before  I 
could  get  rid  of  this  feeling,  and  look  with  composure 
upon  a  surgical  operation.  Even  -now,  after  having  per- 
formed thousands  of  operations,  and  spilled  gallons  of 
blood,  I  seldom  feel  comfortable  as  a  looker-on  at  a  great 
and  protracted  feat  of  this  kind,  however  skilfully  exe- 
cuted. I  am  naturally  sensitive  and  sympathetic,  and 
would  rather  at  any  time  use  the  knife  myself  than  see  it 
used  by  another.  In  the  one  case  I  forget  myself  in  the 
discharge  of  my  duties,  while  in  the  other  case  my  mind  is 
absorbed  in  what  concerns  the  poor  sufferer.  I  recollect, 
when  I  was  a  boy  not  quite  six  years  old,  nearly  fainting 
at  the  sight  of  the  struggles  of  a  sparrow  which  I  had 
knocked  down  vv^ith  a  piece  of  corn-cob  in  my  father's 
yard.  I  thought  I  had  certainly  killed  the  poor  bird,  and 
it  was  not  until  it  recovered  from  the  shock  of  the  blow, 
and  flew  away,  that  I  recovered  my  wonted  equanimity. 

Surgeons  are  often  accused  of  being  hard-hearted  and 
unfeeling.  My  experience  is  that  this  is  a  great  slander, 
entirely  without  truth.  There  are  of  course  exceptions  to 
all  rules ;  but  I  am  quite  sure  that  the  most  skilful  and  ac- 
complished surgeons  in  the  world  are  men  of  the  keenest 
sensibilities  and  the  warmest  sympathies.  I  never  hear 
the  word  "butcher"  applied  to  an  operator  without  in- 
stantly resenting  it.  I  recollect  at  one  of  my  college 
clinics  that  a  stout,  tall  Amazon  made  a  remark  of  this 
kind,  as  she  was  handing  her  child  to  one  of  my  assist- 
ants, preparatory  to  the  performance  of  an  operation.  I 
instantly  fixed  my  eyes  upon  her,  and,  addressing  the 
class,  said,  "Madam,  you  do  not  know  what  you  are 
saying ;  we  are  only  butchers  when  we  have  to  do  with 


173 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


such  a  calf  as  you  are;"  and  tlien  I  gave  her  a  severe 
lecture  upon  her  conduct,  adding  that,  if  she  did  not  in- 
stantly retract  her  language,  I  should  not  operate  upon  her 
child. 

I  have  always  maintained  that  it  is  impossible  for  any 
man  to  be  a  great  surgeon  if  he  is  destitute,  even  in  a  con- 
siderable degree,  of  the  finer  feelings  of  our  nature.  I 
have  often  lain  awake  for  hours  the  night  before  an  impor- 
tant operation,  and  suffered  great  mental  distress  for  days 
after  it  was  over,  until  I  was  certain  that  my  patient  was 
out  of  danger.  I  do  not  think  that  it  is  possible  for  a 
criminal  to  feel  much  worse  the  night  before  his  execution 
than  a  surgeon  when  he  knows  that  upon  his  skill  and  at- 
tention must  depend  the  fate  of  a  valuable  citizen,  hus- 
band, father,  mother,  or  child.  Surgery  under  such  cir- 
cumstances is  a  terrible  taskmaster,  feeding  like  a  vulture 
upon  a  man's  vitals.  It  is  surprising  that  any  surgeon  in 
large  practice  should  ever  attain  to  a  respectable  old  age, 
so  great  are  the  wear  and  tear  of  mind  and  body. 

The  world  has  seen  many  a  sad  picture.  I  will  draw 
one  of  the  surgeon.  It  is  midday ;  the  sun  is  bright  and 
beautiful ;  all  nature  is  redolent  of  joy ;  men  and  women 
crowd  the  street,  arrayed  in  their  best,  and  all,  appar- 
ently, is  peace  and  happiness  within  and  without.  In  a 
large  house,  almost  overhanging  this  street  so  full  of  life 
and  gayety,  lies  upon  a  couch  an  emaciated  figure,  once 
one  of  the  sweetest  and  loveliest  of  her  sex,  a  confiding  and 
affectionate  wife,  and  the  adored  mother  of  numerous  chil- 
dren, the  subject  of  a  frightful  disease  of  one  of  her  limbs, 
or,  it  may  be,  of  her  jaw,  if  not  of  a  still  more  important 
part  of  her  body.  In  an  adjoining  room  is  the  surgeon, 
with  his  assistants,  spreading  out  his  instruments  and  get- 
ting things  in  readiness  for  the  impending  operation.  He 
assigns  to  each  his  appropriate  place.  One  administers 
chloroform  ;  another  takes  charge  of  the  limb  ;  one  screws 
down  the  tourniquet  upon  the  principal  artery;  and  an- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  173 

other  holds  himself  in  readiness  to  follow  the  knife  with 
his  sponge.  The  flaps  are  soon  formed,  the  bone  severed, 
the  vessels  tied,  and  the  huge  wound  approximated.  The 
woman  is  pale  and  ghastly,  the  pulse  hardly  perceptible, 
the  skin  wet  with  clammy  perspiration,  the  voice  husky, 
the  sight  indistinct.  Some  one  whispers  into  the  ear  of 
the  busy  surgeon,  "The  patient,  I  fear,  is  dying."  Re- 
storatives are  administered,  the  pulse  gradually  rises,  and 
after  a  few  hours  of  hard  work  and  terrible  anxiety  reaction 
occurs.  The  poor  woman  was  only  faint  from  the  joint 
influence  of  the  anaesthetic,  shock,  and  loss  of  blood.  An 
assistant,  a  kind  of  sentinel,  is  placed  as  a  guard  over  her, 
with  instructions  to  watch  her  with  the  closest  care,  and 
to  send  word  the  moment  the  slightest  change  for  the  worse 
is  perceived.  The  surgeon  goes  about  his  business,  visitj^ 
other  patients  on  the  way,  and  at  length,  long  after 
the  usual  hour,  he  sits  down,  worried  and  exhausted,  to 
his  cold  and  comfortless  meal,  with  a  mouth  almost  as  dr)* 
and  a  voice  as  husky  as  his  patient's.  He  eats  mechani- 
cally, exchanges  hardly  a  word  with  any  member  of  his 
family,  and  sullenly  retires  to  his  study,  to  prescribe 
for  his  patients — never,  during  all  this  time,  forgetting 
the  poor  mutilated  object  he  left  a  few  hours  ago.  He 
is  about  to  lie  down  to  get  a  moment's  repose  after 
the  severe  toil  of  the  day,  when  suddenly  he  hears  a 
loud  ring  of  the  bell,  and  a  servant,  breathless  with 
excitement,    begs    his    immediate   presence    at    the    sick 

chamber,  with  the  exclamation,  "They  think  Mrs.  

is  dying."  He  hurries  to  the  scene  with  rapid  pace  and 
anxious  feeling.  The  stump  is  of  a  crimson  color,  and 
the  patient  lies  in  a  profound  swoon.  An  artery  has  sud- 
denly given  way  ;  the  exhaustion  is  extreme  ;  cordials  and 
stimulants  are  at  once  brought  into  requisition,  the  dress- 
ings are  removed ;  and  the  recusant  vessel  is  promptly 
secured.  The  vital  current  ebbs  and  flows,  reaction  is 
still  more  tardy  than  before,  and  it  is  not  until  a  late  hour 


174 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


of  the  night  that  the  surgeon,  literally  worn  out  in  mind 
and  body,  retires  to  his  home  in  search  of  repose.  Does 
he  sleep?  He  tries,  but  he  cannot  close  his  eyes.  His 
mind  is  with  his  patient ;  he  hears  every  footstep  upon 
the  pavement  under  his  window,  and  is  in  momentary 
expectation  of  the  ringing  of  the  night-bell.  He  is  dis- 
turbed by  the  wildest  fancies,  he  sees  the  most  terrific 
objects,  and,  as  he  rises  early  in  the  morning  to  hasten  to 
his  patient's  chamber,  he  feels  that  he  has  been  cheated 
of  the  rest  of  which  he  stood  so  much  in  need.  Is  this 
picture  overdrawn?  I  have  sat  for  it  a  thousand  times, 
and  there  is  not  an  educated,  conscientious  surgeon  that 
will  not  certify  to  its  accuracy. 

The  terrible  anxiety,  the  utter  wretchedness,  thus  faintly 
depicted,  often  last,  not  merely  for  a  night  or  a  day,  but 
for  weeks,  and  even  then  the  surgeon  is  not  always  re- 
warded with  success.  What  other  profession  or  pursuit  is 
there  that  involves  so  much  mental  anguish,  so  much 
awful  responsibility,  so  much  wear  and  tear  of  mind  and 
body?  The  physician  and  obstetrician  certainly  have 
their  trials,  and  many  sad  and  even  bitter  ones,  but  com- 
pared with  those  of  the  surgeon  they  are  comparatively 
insignificant.  The  siirgeon,  like  them,  not  only  fre- 
quently necessarily  loses  his  patient,  but  his  patient,  if  in 
case  of  accident  he  should  survive,  is  often  literally  a  living 
monument  of  the  surgeon's  disgrace  in  consequence  of 
his  miitilated  condition — a  condition  not  seldom  unjustly 
attributed  to  the  attendant,  although,  unfortunately,  only 
too  often  ascribed  to  him.  The  physician,  on  the  con- 
trary, either  hides  his  bad  skill  in  the  grave,  or,  if  his 
patient  survive,  no  matter  how  crippled  he  may  be,  no 
blame  is  ascribed  to  the  treatment.  The  hepatized  lung 
does  not,  like  the  anchylosed  joint  or  deformed  limb,  ob- 
trude itself  at  every  step  upon  the  eye  of  the  observer. 

Although  I  have  now  practised  surgery  largely  for  up- 
wards of  a  third  of  a  centur>^,  and  have  earned  some  repu- 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  175 

tation  in  it,  I  have  always  thought  myself  a  better  physi- 
cian than  surgeon.  ]\Iy  reasons  for  this  conclusion  are 
simply  these :  first,  I  had  for  many  years  an  immense 
family  practice,  which  necessarily  brought  me  in  contact 
with  almost  ever>'  variety  of  disease,  common,  specific, 
endemic,  and  epidemic ;  secondly,  I  was  well  acquainted 
with  pathological  anatomy  and  diagnosis,  including  auscul- 
tation and  percussion  ;  and,  lastly,  I  have  had  an  excellent 
knowledge  of  remedies  and  the  requirements  of  the  sick- 
room. A  large  share  of  my  consultation  business  in 
Philadelphia,  Louisville,  and  Cincinnati  has  been  of  a 
strictly  medical  character. 

Of  midwifer}',  practically  speaking,  I  have  never  been 
fond,  although  I  was  at  one  time  largeh-  engaged  in  it  in 
connection  with  family  practice.  As  far  as  my  recollec- 
tion now  ser\'es  me  I  have  never  lost  but  one  woman  by 
puerperal  fever ;  and  I  never  had  occasion  to  apply 
the  forceps  in  any  cases  originally  under  my  care,  a 
practice  at  present  so  disgracefully  common  as  to  be  in 
danger  of  becoming,  ere  long,  the  rule  instead  of  the  rare 
exception,  as  it  used  to  be  in  my  early  professional  life. 
Stout,  hale,  young  women,  especially  primiparae,  were 
generally  bled  early  in  labor ;  and  this  practice,  along 
with  the  use  of  opiates,  generally  rendered  the  use  of  the 
forceps  unnecessary,  as  under  the  influence  of  those  rem- 
edies the  parts  usually  became  rapidly  relaxed.  Lacera- 
tions of  the  perineum  were  uncommon  in  those  da^'s. 

Persons  have  often  come  to  me  saying  they  had  under- 
stood that  I  was  ver>'  fond  of  using  the  knife.  Such 
stories  are  frequently  propagated  from  selfish  considera- 
tions by  designing  confreres,  and  the  weak  and  credulous 
are  only  too  prone  to  credit  them.  As  for  myself,  nothing 
could  be  more  untrue,  or  more  unjust.  I  have  never  hesi- 
tated to  employ  the  knife  when  I  thought  it  was  impera- 
tively demanded  to  relieve  or  cure  my  patient ;  but  that  I 
have  ever  operated  merely  for  the  sake  of  display  or  the 


176  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

gratification  of  a  selfish  end  is  as  base  as  it  is  false.  I  have 
always  had  too  much  respect  for  human  life,  for  my 
profession,  and  for  my  own  dignity,  to  be  guilty  of  such 
an  outrage.  No  man  ever  had  a  greater  or  more  unmit- 
igated contempt  for  the  knife' s-man,  or  mere  mechanical 
surgeon  and  operator,  than  I,  and  I  have  never  hesitated, 
in  season  and  out  of  season,  to  denounce  him  in  the  most 
unmeasured  terms. 

I  have  performed  many  operations,  and  flatter  myself 
that  I  possess  at  least  some  of  the  qualities  of  a  good 
operator — a  steady  hand,  an  unflinching  eye,  perfect  self- 
control,  and  a  thorough  knowledge  of  relative  anatomy. 
I  have  rarely  failed  to  accomplish  what  I  had  set  out  to  do. 
The  sight  of  blood,  as  I  have  said,  was  very  disagreeable 
to  me  in  early  life ;  but  it  never  appalled  me  in  any  of  my 
great  operations,  and  I  do  not  believe  that  I  ever  trembled 
three  times  in  my  life  when  I  had  a  knife  in  my  hand. 
My  hand  and  eye,  so  thoroughly  trained  in  pitching  quoits 
and  pennies  and  practising  with  the  bow  and  arrow  in 
early  boyhood,  never  failed  me.  I  believe  that  I  was 
always  a  safe  operator,  and  if  I  ever  committed  any  great 
mistake  I  am  not  aw^are  of  it.  My  knife  was  always 
guided  by  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  case,  and,  I  have 
reason  to  believe,  by  sound  judgment,  strengthened  and 
sobered  by  the  light  of  experience  and  the  dictates  of  com- 
mon sense.  I  can  say  what  few  men,  extensively  engaged 
in  practice,  can  say:  "I  have  never  lost  a  patient  upon 
the  table  from  shock  or  loss  of  blood. ' ' 

It  has  been  generally  supposed,  from  the  fact  that  I  am  a 
rather  voluminous  author,  that  I  am  fond  of  writing.  Noth- 
ing is  more  true,  and  I  should  be  very  ungrateful  if  I 
denied  it.  Not  only  am  I  fond  of  writing,  but  writing  has 
been  one  of  the  greatest  solaces  of  my  life.  Many  of  my 
happiest  days  and  nights  have  been  spent  with  my  pen, 
in  the  silence  of  my  study,  dead  as  it  were  to  all  the  world 
around  me,  only  enlivened  by  my  own  thoughts  and  re- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  177 

flections,  in  the  midst  of  my  books,  the  silent  companions 
of  my  lonely  hours,  and  the  witnesses  of  my  earnest  eflforts 
to  contribute  something  that  might  be  worthy  of  my  pro- 
fession. 

I  became  a  writer  early  in  my  professional  life.  I  had 
hardly  received  my  degree  before,  as  I  have  said  else- 
where, I  began  to  translate  French  and  German  medical 
books,  working  generally,  even  at  that  early  period,  from 
six  to  eight  hours  a  day  at  my  task.  Writing  was  not,  at 
first,  ver>'  agreeable  to  me.  I  composed  with  difficulty, 
and  it  was  not  until  after  much  experience  and  great  care 
that  I  at  length  overcame  the  obstacles  which  stood  in  mv 
way  to  the  attainment  of  a  style  which  satisfied  me.  The 
art  of  composition  can  only  be  acquired  by  much  effort  and 
long  practice,  although  with  some  persons  it  seems  a  nat- 
ural gift.  Let  those  who  fancy  that  writing  is  an  easy  task 
read  the  anecdote  of  the  visit  of  Lady  Morgan  to  Rossini. 
' '  Ah, ' '  says  she,  ' '  I  have  found  you  in  a  moment  of  in- 
spiration. "  "  You  have ;  but  this  inspiration  is  thun- 
dering hard  work." 

In  my  earlier  writings  I  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  a 
great  deal  of  interlining  and  copying ;  but  during  the  last 
twenty  years  I  have  seldom  rewritten  anything,  generally 
trusting  to  the  original  draught.  ]\Iy  style  has  always 
been  characterized  by  simplicity ;  I  have  never  been 
ambitious  of  ornament ;  my  sole  object  has  been  to  ex- 
press myself  in  clear,  intelligible  language,  adapted  to 
the  comprehension  of  the  dullest  intellect ;  and  in  this 
I  believe  I  have  generally  succeeded.  Indeed,  medical 
writing  does  not  need  much  display  or  embellishment. 
Medicine  is  a  science  of  facts,  which  disdains  all  poet- 
ical license  and  meretricious  ornament. 

The  only  way  to  write  well  is  to  be  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  one's  subject.  My  invariable  plan  has  been  to  out- 
line my  material  beforehand,  dividing  and  subdividing  it  in 
the  most  minute  and  thorough  manner,  and  then  to  fill  up, 

1—23 


178  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

at  my  leisure,  the  groundwork  thus  sketched.  In  this  way 
the  task  has  been  a  comparatively  easy  and  pleasant  one. 
A  large  proportion  of  my  w^orks  was  composed  in  my  car- 
riage. My  custom,  when  I  was  engaged  upon  a  book,  was 
to  map  out  a  certain  amount  of  labor  for  the  day ;  I  would 
then  jump  into  my  buggy  to  attend  to  my  morning 
rounds,  and,  while  going  from  house  to  house,  revolve  the 
subject  in  my  mind,  amplifying  and  arranging  it  in  proper, 
systematic  order,  and  then,  at  the  first  leisure  moment, 
sit  down  and  commit  it  to  paper.  In  this  way  I  was  not 
only  never  idle,  but  was  able  daily  to  perform  a  vast 
amount  of  useful  labor.  The  exercise  which  I  thus  took 
on  the  streets  was  conducive  to  my  health  and  vigor  of 
intellect.  I  seldom  allowed  anything,  unless  it  was  more 
than  ordinarily  interesting,  to  distract  my  attention,  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  I  never  in  all  my  life  neglected  a  pa- 
tient in  consequence  of  this  mode  of  occupation.  I  have 
always  been  too  conscientious  knowingly  to  omit  the  per- 
formance of  a  single  duty  of  any  kind.  * 

In  writing  my  books  my  practice  has  been  to  take  up 
first  such  subjects  as  I  was  most  familiar  with,  and  in  this 
way  I  often  wrote  the  last  chapters  before  the  first.  This, 
I  think,  is  an  excellent  plan,  calculated  to  facilitate  pro- 
gress, and  enhance  the  pleasures  of  composition.  A 
builder  must  necessarily  begin  at  the  foundation,  and 
gradually  proceed  upwards.  With  an  author  it  is  different, 
especially  when,  as  in  the  medical  profession,  the  subjects 
are  often  independent  one  of  another,  and  can  therefore 
be  worked  out  separately.      The  mind  requires  variety. 

*  I  lately — 1883 — read  a  sketch  of  Charles  Wesley,  the  celebrated  Methodist 
divine,  an  author  of  numerous  poems,  from  which  it  appears  that  "he  composed 
on  horseback,  in  bed,  anywhere,  on  every  occasion,  and  wrote  his  compositions 
as  soon  as  he  could  get  pen  and  paper."  I  have  myself  not  unfrequently  got  out 
of  bed  at  night  to  write  a  thought  or  sentiment  that  had  occurred  to  me  in  a 
semi-dozing  condition.  A  dream  has  sometimes  served  to  solve  an  intricate 
mathematical  problem,  one  that  could  not  be  solved  in  the  waking  state  by  the 
most  powerful  efforts  of  the  mind. 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  179 

To  labor  incessantly  upon  any  one  topic  soon  blunts  one's 
ardor,  and  greatly  retards  one's  progress. 

Hazlitt,  in  speaking  of  the  evanescent  glor}-  of  a  player's 
life,  obser\^es :  ' '  When  an  author  dies  it  is  no  matter,  for 
his  works  remain.  When  a  great  actor  dies  there  is  a 
void  produced  in  society,  a  gap  which  requires  to  be 
filled  up."  The  works  remain  !  Where?  Upon  the  shelf, 
in  the  dusty  library,  enveloped  in  cobwebs,  or,  as  not  un- 
frequently  happens  at  the  present  day,  they  are  sold  to 
the  ragman,  as  waste  paper.  Few  works  outlive  their 
authors,  or  are  handed  down  to  posterity,  as  great  reposi- 
tories of  learning,  as  fountains  of  knowledge,  at  which 
future  generations  may  slake  their  thirst  for  information. 
A  representative  book,  especially  in  the  medical  profes- 
sion, is  a  rare  production.  Only  a  very  few  escape  general 
oblivion,  or  they  serve  as  milestones  in  after  ages  of 
the  state  of  the  science  of  which  they  treat.  The  author, 
like  the  poor  player,  whose  fate  is  so  sympathetically  ex- 
pressed by  Shakespeare, 

"  Struts  and  frets  his  hour  upon  the  stage, 
And  then  is  heard  no  more." 

This  death  of  an  author's  works  before  his  own  demise 
is  almost  as  sad  a  doom  as  that  which  a  parent  is  some- 
times subjected  to  when  he  is  obliged  to  witness  the  death 
of  his  own  children,  as  one  after  another  sinks  prematurely 
into  the  grave,  especially  when  his  darling  Benjamin,  upon 
whose  shoulders  he  had  fondly  expected  to  glide  down  to 
posterity  by  covering  him  with  his  mantle,  is  taken  from 
him. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

MY  HABITS — YOUTH,  MANHOOD,  AND  OLD  AGE — LETTERS  AND  CORRESPOND- 
ENCE— TESTIMONLVLS  FOR  PATENT  MEDICINES — PUPILS — TRIALS — POSITION — 
RELIGION — CREMATION — MODES  OF  DEATH — MEDICINE  —  CLASSICS  —  LABORS 
APART   FROM   AUTHORSHIP. 

Every  man  has  certain  habits  which  are  either  peculiar 
to  himself,  or  which  he  shares  in  common  with  his  fellow- 
beings.  Lord  Chesterfield  has  said  of  himself  that  he 
never  laughed  after  he  became  a  man  of  common  sense, 
evidently  considering  it  rude  and  vulgar  to  give  vent  to  his 
feelings  in  such  a  manner.  All  the  world  knows  that  he 
prided  himself  upon  his  good  breeding,  and  yet  in  thus 
suppressing  his  feelings  he  was  guilty  of  violating  one  of 
the  natural  laws  of  God.  Of  all  animals  man  is  the  only 
one  endowed  with  this  prerogative,  and  it  requires  no  ar- 
gument to  show  that  its  proper  indulgence  in  nowise  dero- 
gates from  his  dignity.  On  the  contrary,  I  have  always 
myself  enjoyed  a  good  hearty  laugh.  "Laugh  and  grow 
fat"  is  an  old  proverb.  Physick  was  hardly  ever  known 
to  smile,  much  less  to  laugh,  and  yet  it  has  been  said  by 
those  who  best  knew  him  that  he  was,  notwithstanding 
his  austere  appearance  and  dignified  deportment,  a  man  of 
very  kindly  feeling.  He  was  naturally  a  man  of  few 
words,  who  scrupulously  shunned  society  and  all  places  of 
amusement,  and  was  long  the  subject  of  bodily  suffering, 
well  calculated  to  spoil  the  best  temper  in  the  world.  It 
is  reported  of  him  that,  being  asked  on  one  occasion  by 
Dr.  Dewees,  who  was  fond  of  gayety  and  fun,  whether  he 
would  not  go  with  him  to  the  theatre  to  see  a  certain  actor, 
he  replied,  "No;  it  will  not  do  for  men  occupying  our 
position  to  be  seen  at  such  a  place.  We  must  not  make 
igo 


A  UTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  SAMUEL  D.  GROSS,  M.  D.    i8i 

ourselves  so  common,"  It  is  said  even  the  devil  laughs, 
and  I  am  sure  he  would  have  few  converts  if  he  did  not. 

I  believe  I  was  constitutionally  lazy,  and  I  am  not  sure 
that  indolence  is  not  the  normal  condition  of  our  nature. 
However  this  may  be,  I  was  very  fond,  as  a  boy,  of  sleep- 
ing late  in  the  morning,  and  as  I  was  somewhat  of  a 
favorite  with  my  father  I  was  often  indulged  until  a  late 
hour,  long  after  all  the  other  children  were  up.  After  my 
father^s  death,  however,  I  acquired  better  habits,  and  be- 
came an  early  riser,  a  habit  which  has  continued  w4th  me 
ever  since.  From  six  to  half  past  six  has  been  my  usual 
time  of  rising  for  the  last  forty  years,  and  I  have  seldom 
retired  later  than  eleven  to  half  past  eleven,  unless  I  was 
professionally  engaged,  out  at  a  party,  or  intensely  occu- 
pied in  writing,  when  I  sometimes,  although  rarely,  en- 
croached upon  the  early  hours  of  the  morning.  My  system 
has  generally  required  from  six  and  a  half  to  seven  hours' 
sleep.  No  man  who  wishes  to  live  well  or  long  should 
rob  himself  of  his  rest  at  night.  Even  if  he  cannot  sleep, 
it  is  a  great  comfort  to  be  able  to  stretch  himself  out  upon 
his  bed  to  relax  his  wearied  muscles  and  his  excited  brain. 
Humboldt,  the  author  of  Cosmos,  who  was  not  a  great 
sleeper,  delighted  to  lie  in  bed  for  the  sake  merely  of  the 
pleasures  of  recumbency,  and  a  man  who  can  indulge  in 
such  a  luxury  deserves  to  be  envied,  for  I  am  sure  it  must 
conduce  not  only  to  his  happiness,  but  to  the  extension  of 
his  life. 

I  am  one  of  those  fortunate  beings  who  can  sleep  any- 
where, or  almost  in  any  posture.  I  verily  believe  I  could, 
if  at  all  fatigued,  sleep  soundly  in  the  fiercest  battle,  amid 
the  roar  of  cannon  and  the  most  terrible  excitement.  One 
of  my  habits  for  many  years  has  been  to  take  a  short  nap 
— from  ten  to  fifteen  minutes — upon  my  chair,  on  coming 
in  from  my  morning  rounds,  while  waiting  for  my  dinner, 
and  I  know  of  nothing  more  refreshing  and  invigorating. 
The  sleep  thus  obtained  is  a  thousand  times  more  salutary 


1 82  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

and  sustaining  than  a  dozen  post-prandial  naps,  which 
generally  leave  the  brain  in  a  dull,  stupid  condition,  unfit 
for  active  mental  exertion  during  the  rest  of  the  day  and 
evening. 

A  man  is  doubly  fortunate  if,  when  he  retires  at  night, 
he  can  throw  aside  his  business  and  compose  himself  to 
rest.  In  the  medical  profession  this  cannot  always  be 
done.  The  responsibility  of  our  cases  will  not  permit  it. 
Like  Banquo's  ghost,  they  stalk  into  our  presence,  and 
even  harass  us  in  our  dreams.  I  have  spent  many  an  un- 
comfortable night  from  this  cause.  When  engaged  in 
writing  intensely,  or  studying  out  an  important  subject,  I 
have  occasionally  been  similarly  annoyed  ;  but  commonly 
I  have  been  able  to  shake  off  the  matter  from  my  mind, 
especially  if  I  took  a  short  walk  before  retiring,  and  thus 
obtained  the  necessary  amount  of  refreshing  sleep.  Habit 
is  a  curious  thing.  As  a  physician  and  a  surgeon  I  have 
often  been  obliged  to  visit  patients  in  the  country,  compel- 
ling me  to  start  early  in  the  morning.  Under  such  cir- 
cumstances I  have  never  been  obliged  to  request  anybody 
to  wake  me.  On  the  contrary,  I  was  always  up  in  advance 
of  time.  I  never  missed  a  coach  or  train  in  my  life  in 
consequence. 

For  many  years  I  have  had  few  holidays,  few  days  of  pos- 
itive relaxation  and  freedom  of  mind  and  body,  and  have 
alwa^'s  been  unhappy  when  not  actively  or  usefully  em- 
ployed. The  grave  is  the  only  place  where  a  man,  bent 
upon  the  performance  of  good  deeds,  should  seek  repose. 
"Why  don't  you  sometimes  rest?"  said  a  friend  to  Ar- 
nauld.  "Rest!  Why  should  I  rest  here ?  Haven't  I  an 
eternity  to  rest  in  ?" 

Regularity  at  one's  meals  is  a  source  of  great  comfort, 
and  not  a  little  conducive  to  longevity.  Much  of  the  good 
health  with  which  I  have  been  blessed  has  been  due  to 
this  cause.  No  man  since  the  days  of  Adam  and  Eve  has 
been  more  particular  in  this  respect  than  myself.     I  have 


SAMUEL   n.    GROSS,   M.D.  183 

seldom,  except  when  from  home  on  a  visit  to  a  patient,  or 
when  dining  out,  taken  a  meal  out  of  my  own  house,  and 
I  have  the  more  carefully  observed  this,  conduct  because  it 
has  seldom  been  in  my  power  to  meet  my  family  at  any 
other  time.  ?vly  breakfast  has  always  been  ser^-ed,  for  the 
last  forty  years,  at  eight  o'clock,  summer  and  winter,  my 
dinner  at  half  past  two,  and  my  tea  at  half  past  seven, 
generally  with  the  regularity  of  the  clock.  Late  suppers 
I  have  always  avoided,  except  when  out  at  parties,  when  I 
never  hesitated  to  indulge  moderately,  ahvays  sleeping 
better,  and  never  feeling  the  worse  on  account  of  it  the 
next  day.  A  gentleman  is  to  be  pitied  if,  on  such  occa- 
sions, he  is  obliged,  on  account  of  his  stomach,  to  fold  his 
arms  and  look  on  the  scene  in  silence.  Such  an  organ  is 
a  great  nuisance,  only  fit  to  be  walked  on  in  the  morning, 
when  empty,  for  the  poor  owner's  health  !  I  never  drank 
wine,  brandy,  or  whiskey  until  after  I  was  upwards  of 
twenty-five  years  of  age ;  and  even  now  I  have  a  great 
aversion  to  all  alcoholic  drinks,  except  now  and  then  a 
glass  of  hot  whiskey  punch,  on  a  cold  night,  immediately 
before  going  to  bed.  The  only  wine  I  have  really  ever  had 
a  fondness  for  is  champagne.  In  hot  weather,  for  many 
years  past,  I  have  generally  drunk  claret,  believing  that  it 
was  highly  beneficial  to  me.  Sauteme  and  Rhenish  wines 
are  very  grateful  to  me,  and  it  must  surely  be  a  cause  for 
congratulation  that  the  use  of  these  wines  has,  within  the 
last  ten  years,  become  so  common  in  this  countr}'.  Of 
malt  liquors  I  have  never  been  ver}'  fond.  Now  and  then 
I  have  been  greatly  refreshed  by  a  glass  of  Scotch  ale,  and 
I  have  often  recommended  this  drink  with  great  advantage 
to  my  patients,  on  account  of  the  large  quantity  of  car- 
bonic acid  gas  which  it  contains,  in  dyspepsia,  asthma,  in- 
ordinate insomnia,  and  various  affections  of  the  genito- 
urinary organs.  Champagne,  provided  it  is  of  superior 
quality,  is  one  of  the  very  best,  as  well  as  one  of  the  most 
grateful   remedies  in  disorders   of   the   digestive   organs, 


1 84  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

whether  acute  or  chronic,  attended  with  flatulence,  nausea, 
or  vomiting.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  drink  fit  for  the  gods  in  such 
conditions,  gently  stimulating,  refreshing,  and  exhila- 
rating. 

I  have  always  been  a  hearty  but  temperate  eater,  and 
have  never,  in  all  my  life,  been  intoxicated ;  although  I 
have  on  several  occasions  felt  the  exhilarating  influence  of 
wine.  Coffee  I  was  able  to  drink  twice  and  even  three 
times  a  day  with  impunity  until  I  was  thirty-five  years  of 
age.  It  then  produced  dyspepsia,  with  acidity  of  the 
stomach,  and  I  was  obliged,  notwithstanding  my  great  fond- 
ness for  it,  to  abandon  its  use  altogether,  employing  black 
tea  as  a  substitute.  I  believe,  from  much  observation  and 
experience,  that  the  constant  and  inordinate  use  of  coffee 
is  productive  of  a  great  deal  of  evil,  especially  in  nervous 
persons,  in  whom,  I  am  quite  sure,  it  is  a  fruitful  source 
of  indigestion,  irritability  of  temper,  and  loss  of  sleep. 
Black  tea  as  a  daily  drink  is  preferable  to  green,  but  both 
should  be  used  in  moderation  and  in  proper  season.  I 
think  I  may  confidently  affirm  that  a  cup  of  good  tea  is  far 
better  in  relieving  fatigue  and  preserving  strength,  when  a 
man  has  to  perform  an  undue  amount  of  mental  or  ph3-si- 
cal  laboi,  than  a  glass  of  wine,  whiskey,  or  brandy.  The 
British  soldiers,  both  at  home  and  in  the  Indies,  have  long 
acted  upon  this  principle,  and  the  result  of  our  exj^erience 
during  our  late  terrible  war  was  of  a  similar  nature. 

A  proper  mixture  of  vegetable  and  animal  food  is  of 
great  consequence  in  a  dietetic  point  of  view.  The  vege- 
tarians, as  they  are  called,  with  Graham  at  their  head,  are 
a  singular  class  of  bipeds,  of  American  origin,  who  have 
done  the  race  not  a  little  harm  by  founding  a  practice  so 
utterly  at  variance  with  the  principles  of  sound  sense  and 
the  laws  of  our  being.  Man  is  an  omnivorous  animal.  It 
is  impossible  to  view  him  in  any  other  light.  His  teeth, 
his  digestive  apparatus,  his  appetites,  and  his  wants,  not 
to  say  anything  of  the  world's  experience,  all  concur  in 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  185 

proving  this  fact.  These  vegetarians  are  generally  enor- 
mous eaters.  I  knew  one  of  them — a  doctor — who 
during  the  peach  season  daily  devoured  a  peck  of  that 
delicids  fruit,  and  other  vegetable  matter  in  proportion  ! 
Re  was,  of  course,  as  thin  as  a  herring  in  hot  weather. 
When  Dr.  Reuben  R.  Mussey,  a  man  of  no  mean  reputa- 
tion as  a  surgeon,  a  follower  of  Graham,  settled  at  Cincin- 
nati, I  one  day  called  at  his  lodgings  to  pay  him  my  re- 
spects. A  little  chubby-faced  boy,  probably  six  or  seven 
years  of  age,  answered  the  knocker.  Asking  whether  Dr. 
Mussey  was  within,  he  threw  his  face  into  a  ver>'  quizzical 
shape  and  said,  ' '  Father  is  not  at  home. "  "  You  are  Dr. 
Mussey' s  son,  are  you?"  "Yes."  "I  suppose  you  are 
very  fond  of  meat  ?' '  Looking  again  ver\-  quizzically,  he 
replied,  ' '  I  like  the  smell  of  it. "  I  thank  God  most  de- 
voutly for  the  happy  mixture. 

If  a  man  wants  to  be  well,  happy,  cheerful,  and  com- 
fortable, in  the  best  possible  condition  for  his  day's  work 
and  night's  rest,  as  it  respects  his  brain  and  muscles,  he 
must  eat  slowly,  masticate  his  food  thoroughl}',  and  not 
crowd  his  stomach.  This  organ  can  bear  a  great  deal, 
but  there  is  a  point  beyond  which  endurance  is  impossible. 
A  little  rest  after  a  hearty  meal  is  a  good  thing,  but  it  is 
not  every  man  that  can  take  it.  In  this  countr\^,  where 
ever}'thing  is  done  in  hot  haste,  where  persons  become 
rich  in  a  day,  and  poor  in  an  hour,  people,  especially  mer- 
chants and  mechanics,  eat  like  so  many  wild  beasts,  swal- 
lowing their  food  without  due  mastication,  and  putting 
twice  as  much  into  the  stomach  as  they  can  digest.  Is  it 
be  wondered  at  that  we  are  a  nation  of  dyspeptics,  that 
we  have  bad  teeth,  that  we  are  nervous,  irritable,  murder- 
ous, and  short-lived?  Festina  lente  should  be  the  motto 
of  every  man  when  he  sits  down  to  eat.  The  venerable 
Charles  Carroll,  when  asked  what  means  he  employed  to 
preserve  his  health  in  such  perfect  condition,  replied,  "I 
always   leave  the  table  hungry  ;"    and   the  good  Bishop 

1—24 


1 86  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

David,  of  Kentucky,  upon  being  asked  a  similar  question, 
rejoined  that  he  always  carried  his  ph}-sician  with  him. 
Upon  being  requested  to  tell  who  that  physician  was,  he 
answered  it  was  "  hunger." 

The  Code  of  Health  of  the  School  of  Salernum,  founded 
in  the  ninth  centun.',  comprises  some  excellent  general 
rules  in  regard  to  the  use  of  food  and  drink,  which  should 
be  more  widely  disseminated  than  they  have  hitherto  been. 
The  elegant  translation  of  this  code,  recently  published  by 
Dr.  Ordronaux,  of  New  York,  will  no  doubt  be  followed 
by  very  good  results  in  popularizing  these  rules. 

"  Without  the  habit,  suppers  never  suit ; 
Shun  then  strange  meals  and  drinks  and  fish  and  fruit, 
And  frequent  revels,  of  disease  the  root. 
Take  wine  for  health's  sake  after  every  course, 
And  those  who  can  let  them  this  rule  enforce. 
Drink  not  when  needless ;  eat  not  out  of  mood ; 
For  thirst  and  hunger  tonic  powers  include. 
While  surfeits  bring  of  direst  ills  a  brood. 
Note  when  you  drink,  that  you  may  not  fall  ill ; 
Note  what  you  drink ;  drink  after  baths  your  fill. 
'Tis  heavy,  not  light,  suppers  that  give  pain, 
As  common  sense  and  doctors  both  maintain. 
Unless  compelled,  you  never  should  combine, 
At  one  meal,  divers  sorts  of  food  or  wine ; 
But  if  constrained,  then  take  the  lightest  cheer; 
From  wine  and  milk  a  lepra  will  appear. 
Routine  before  and  after  meals  demands 
Water,  dispensed  to  wash  convivial  hands. 
With  wholesome  dishes  be  all  paupers  fed ; 
Let  supper  close  our  calls  for  daily  bread. 
Curb  appetite  and  thus  prolong  your  breath — 
Temp' ranee,  the  doctors  tell  us,  laughs  at  death." 

These  rules,  in  the  main  excellent,  are  not  all  unexcep- 
tionable. The  Salernians  were  evidently  too  fond  of  wine. 
Young  people  should  never  use  wine  of  any  kind,  and  it 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  187 

is  equally  important  that  they  should  abstain  from  con- 
diments, as  pepper,  mustard,  pungent  sauces,  and  hot 
dishes,  as  they  unduly  excite  the  appetite,  and  thus  lead 
to  repletion,  indigestion,  and  bad  health.  Persons  who 
are  naturally  weak,  the  aged,  the  infirm,  and  the  over- 
worked will  be  benefited  by  a  glass  of  generous  wine,  or 
a  little  whiskey,  brandy,  or  ale,  at  dinner.  A  man,  as  the 
Apostle  says,  should  occasionally  take  a  little  wine  for  the 
stomach's  sake.  Water,  too  freely  drunk  during,  or  soon 
after,  a  meal,  is  bad,  as  it  interferes  with  healthful  diges- 
tion. Any  severe  exercise  of  mind  or  body  soon  after  a 
full  meal  is  equally  prejudicial. 

The  voice  of  the  stomach  should  not  be  disregarded  in 
eating  and  drinking.  As  a  general  rule,  whatever  the 
stomach  craves  may  be  accepted  as  an  indication  as  to 
what  is  wholesome.  There  are,  of  course,  enough  excep- 
tions to  prove  the  rule.  Some  physicians,  otherwise  appa- 
rently sufficiently  wise,  are  fools  in  this  respect.  They 
seem  to  be  incapable  of  interpreting  nature,  no  matter 
how  loudly  or  energetically  she  makes  her  demands.  One 
of  my  daughters  had  been  terribly  ill  for  several  weeks  ; 
she  was  much  exhausted  by  nausea  and  vomiting ;  ever>'- 
thing  she  took  was  promptly  rejected,  and  her  life  was  in 
imminent  peril.  I  was  summoned  to  her  bedside  early  in 
the  morning ;  she  was  extremely  feeble,  and  in  constant 
retching.  "Is  there  nothing  that  you  would  like  to  eat 
or  drink  ?  Have  you  no  craving  for  any  particular  kind 
of  food  or  drink?"  "  Yes,  I  have  been  dying  for  the  last 
few  days  for  champagne,  but  my  physicians  have  obsti- 
nately interdicted  its  use."  Her  husband  was  immedi- 
ately summoned,  a  bottle  of  the  much-desired  article  was 
brought  to  the  bedside,  and  from  that  moment  convales- 
cence commenced.  This  is  only  a  type  of  a  hundred  simi- 
lar cases  in  the  experience  of  every  enlightened  and  ob- 
servant practitioner.  The  voice  of  the  stomach,  under 
such  circumstances,  is  emphatically  the  voice  of  God — 


l38  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

the  voice  of  suffering  Nature.  Some  years  ago  I  published 
in  Dr.  YandelPs  American  Practitioner  an  elaborate  paper 
upon  the  Cravings  of  Nature  in  Disease.  The  subject  had 
never,  as  far  as  I  know,  been  treated  of  before,  but  it  has 
since  attracted  wide  attention.  Practically,  indeed,  it  is 
a  ver>'  important  one. 

When  I  was  a  boy  I  tried  hard  to  learn  to  smoke  and 
chew,  but  after  various  efforts  abandoned  the  attempt  in 
disgust,  on  account  of  the  nauseating  effects  of  tobacco 
and  the  disgusting  habit  of  spitting  which  its  use  so  gen- 
erally engenders.  A  pinch  of  snuff  is  occasionally  a  good 
thing,  as  it  serves  to  clear  a  man's  brain  by  the  impression 
which  it  exerts  through  the  mucous  membrane  of  the  nose 
upon  the  sympathetic  nerves.  It  has  always  been  a  source 
of  surprise  to  me  that  a  genteel  woman  could  tolerate  an 
habitual  chewer  and  smoker,  and  yet  I  have  heard  many 
ladies  declare  that  the  odor  of  a  cigar  was  more  agreeable 
to  them  than  the  fragrance  of  a  delicious  flower.  A  mouth 
covered  with  tobacco-juice  is  anything  but  ornamental. 
Of  its  fragrance  I  cannot  speak  from  personal  observation. 

I  have  all  my  life,  with  the  exception  of  my  early  child- 
hood, been  a  hard,  earnest  worker.  Whatever  I  had  to  do 
I  did  with  all  my  might,  never  putting  off  till  the  after- 
noon what  could  be  done  in  the  morning,  or  until  to- 
morrow the  labor  of  to-day.  I  always  liked  to  be  fully 
up  to  time,  or  even  a  little  in  advance  of  it.  In  my  pro- 
fessional engagements  I  have  been  a  very  strict  observer 
of  punctuality.  I  have  never  in  my  life  wilfully  made 
a  professional  brother  wait  for  me  in  a  consultation.  I 
have  always  considered  that  no  man  has  a  right  to  rob 
another  of  his  time,  and  therefore,  while  I  have  myself 
been  a  most  scrupulous  respecter  of  the  interests  of  others, 
I  have  never  allowed  any  one  to  trifle  with  my  own. 

Every  man  that  is  a  man — that  has  the  slightest  preten- 
sion to  manly  qualities — ought  to  feel  that  his  destiny  is 
in  his  own  keeping,  and  that  he  can  hold  the  world,  as  it 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  189 

were,  in  his  grasp.  The  brain  can  perform  wonders ;  so 
can  the  spade,  the  pickaxe,  and  the  hammer.  Every 
human  being,  even  the  idiot,  has  talents  that  may,  if 
properly  applied,  work  out  useful  results.  The  architect 
may  display  genius  and  talent  in  the  erection  of  a  house ; 
the  coachmaker,  in  the  construction  of  a  carriage ;  the 
cook,  in  the  preparation  of  his  dishes.  Ever}'  pursuit  in 
life  requires  aptitude,  and  aptitude  is  nothing  but  genius 
or  talent  properh/  applied.  Neither  is  worth  anything  if 
unaided  by  industry  and  perseverance,  along  with  a  defi- 
nite aim,  or  a  well-digested  ulterior  object,  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  which  a  man's  whole  soul  must  be  bent,  alike 
in  his  waking  and  in  his  sleeping  hours. 

To  owe  no  man  has  been  one  of  the  great  maxims  of  my 
life.  It  has  been  an  invariable  rule  with  me  to  pay  on  the 
spot  for  whatever  I  buy,  or  as  soon  thereafter  as  possible. 
My  servants  have  never  been  obliged  to  wait  a  day  for 
their  wages.  Tradespeople  have  seldom,  if  ever,  been 
obliged  to  present  their  accounts  twice. 

Hard  work  and  annoying  cases  have  sometimes  rendered 
me  irritable,  and  made  me  occasionally  indulge  in  a  hasty 
or  unguarded  expression,  for  which  I  was  afterwards 
sorr}'.  Naturally  I  am  of  an  amiable  temper,  as  prompt 
to  forgive  as  to  resent  an  insult.  It  has  fallen  to  my  lot 
to  have  a  few  enemies ;  but  they  were  not  made  so  through 
my  own  agency  or  conduct.  They  rose  up  in  consequence 
of  my  position  as  a  professional  man,  and  as  a  natural 
result  of  a  large  and  diversified  practice,  which  brought 
me  in  contact  with  all  kinds  of  people — good,  bad,  and 
indifferent.  I  never  spoke  ill  of  a  professional  brother, 
or  did  anything,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  undermine  his 
standing  with  his  patients,  the  profession,  or  the  public. 
On  the  contrary,  I  have  often  gone  out  of  my  way  to  sus- 
tain and  defend  him — sometimes,  I  fear,  when  silence 
might  have  been  the  correct  course.  I  have  on  several 
occasions  prevented  patients  from  instituting  suits  for  mal- 


190 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


practice  against  members  of  the  profession  ;  I  saved  two  of 
my  own  pnpils  in  this  way,  and  both  became  afterwards 
my  enemies. 

I  occasionally  visit  the  theatre  to  see  a  great  tragedy  or 
an  interesting  comedy,  and  to  get  a  good  laugh,  to  break 
the  dull  monotony  of  my  life,  and  to  prepare  me  the  better 
for  new  exertion,  on  the  principle  of  "All  work  and  no 
pla}' makes  Jack  a  dull  boy."  The  opera  I  have  never 
enjoyed,  and  have  sometimes  fallen  asleep  during  the  per- 
formance, especially  if  I  was  much  fatigued.  The  circus 
has  alwa-s's  afforded  me  genuine  amusement.  I  have  at- 
tended  only  three  horseraces.  I  have  never  witnessed  a 
cockfight,  and  have  seldom  been  present  at  a  political 
meeting.  In  politics  I  have  always  sided  with  the  can- 
didate whom  I  supposed  to  be  the  most  honest,  and  have 
consequently  seldom  voted  a  full  ticket.  The  first  vote  I 
ever  cast  Vv^as  for  General  Jackson  for  the  Presidency.  I 
believed  him  to  be  an  honest  man,  and  therefore  gave  him 
my  suffrage.  Immediately  before  the  war  I  supported  Bell 
and  Everett,  and  afterwards  Mr.  Lincoln  when  he  became, 
for  the  second  time,  a  candidate  for  the  Presidency.  I  was 
actuated  by  the  belief  that  he  would  do  all  that  any  mortal 
could  do  to  promote  the  rapid  reconstruction  of  the  rebel- 
lious States.  His  assassination,  wdiich  took  place  only  a 
short  time  after  his  inauguration,  was  a  great  calamity, 
a  national  evil.  He  was  a  good,  nay,  a  great  man,  governed 
by  principle  and  the  kindliest  feelings  of  our  nature. 

I  doubt,  however,  whether  he  had  the  slightest  concep- 
tion of  the  gigantic  character  of  the  war  at  its  commence- 
ment. The  fact  that  his  proclamation  called  for  only  sev- 
enty-five thousand  volunteers  has  always  satisfied  me  that 
he  thought  the  war  would  soon  be  over,  and  that  the 
seceded  States  would  rapidly  fall  back  into  their  places  in 
the  Union.  I  was  greatly  disappointed  on  reading  the 
proclamation,  and  obser\^ed  at  the  time  to  my  family  that 
if  the  President   had  had   a   proper   appreciation  of  the 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  191 

Southern  people  and  the  reasons  which  induced  them  to 
go  to  war,  he  would  have  called  out  at  the  start  not  less 
than  five  hundred  thousand  men.  Such  a  call  would  have 
exercised  a  most  powerful  influence  upon  Southern  politi- 
cians by  showing  them  that  the  Federal  Government  was 
in  earnest  to  put  down  the  rebellion — to  crush  it  in  its 
infancy. 

Of  late  years  I  have  frequently  remained  away  from  the 
polls,  having  rarely  found  a  candidate  whom  I  regarded  as 
worthy  of  a  vote.  Besides,  it  is  not  pleasant  to  have  one's 
vote  neutralized  by  a  scamp  immediately  in  front  of  or 
behind  one. 

I  have  always  had  a  sovereign  contempt  for  doctors 
who  meddle  in  politics,  and  my  contempt  has  hardly  been 
less  keen  for  men  who  combine  the  practice  of  medicine 
with  preaching.  Politics  may  well  be  left  to  the  care  of 
politicians.  A  man  has  quite  enough  to  do  when  he  is  a 
physician  or  a  preacher,  without  mixing  the  two  callings. 
My  motto  has  always  been,  Ne  siitor  ultra  crepidam. 

I  recollect,  many  years  ago,  hearing  an  anecdote  of  an 
old  Virginia  physician.  Dr.  Cabbell,  who  had  long  been  at 
enmity  with  one  of  these  preaching-doctors.  The  two  had 
not  spoken  for  many  years,  when  Cabbell  one  day  was 
brought  home  in  a  state  of  unconsciousness  from  having 
been  pitched  head  foremost  over  the  neck  of  his  horse. 
The  preaching-doctor,  considering  the  occasion  a  favorable 
one  for  a  reconciliation,  anxiously  approached  the  couch 
of  the  dying  man,  who  by  this  time  had  completely  re- 
gained his  senses.  ' '  Good-morning,  Dr.  Cabbell. ' '  Dr. 
Cabbell,  raising  himself  off  his  pillow,  exclaimed,  "What 
the  d — 1  brings  you  here  ?  Begone  !  begone  !  I  can  bear 
anything,  ever}'thing  but  a  preaching-doctor  and  a  trip- 
ping horse."  Every  honest  physician  will  indorse  this 
sentiment. 

I  have  always  been  particular  in  my  friendships.  I 
have  never  attached  myself  to  any  man  of  coarse  mind, 


192  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

rough  manners,  or  bad  habits.  If  I  have  ever  toadied  to 
anybody,  I  am  not  conscious  of  it.  On  the  contrary,  I 
have  often  in  my  practice  made  the  rich  give  way  to  the 
poor. 

It  has  been  said,  not  without  truth,  that  youth  is  a 
bkmder,  manhood  a  struggle,  and  old  age  a  regret.  My 
life  is  an  exception  to  this  rule.  That  I  was  guilty  of 
some  indiscretions  in  my  youth  is  probable  ;  but  few  youths, 
perhaps,  were  ever  more  moral  or  more  conscientious.  My 
manhood  was  a  period  of  courageous  self-reliance,  full  of 
work  and  hard  knocks,  but  also  full  of  hope  and  confi- 
dence. It  was  the  seedtime  of  my  professional  life,  with- 
out one  misgiving,  if  my  life  should  be  spared,  of  ultimate 
success.  Am  I  old  at  sixty-four  ?  I  do  not  feel  that  I  am. 
If  my  vigor  has  in  any  degree  abated,  I  am  not  conscious 
of  it.  I  have  just  finished  my  thirtieth  course  of  lectures 
on  surgery.  If  I  ever  lectured  better,  with  greater  enthu- 
siasm, or  with  more  point  and  effect,  with  more  ease  and 
unction  than  I  have  this  winter,  I  am  not  aware  of  the 
fact.  Always  punctual  to  the  minute,  I  invariably  filled 
the  hour  in  a  sustained  and  easy  manner,  keeping  fully 
alive  the  attention  of  my  class  until  the  janitor's  bell  an- 
nounced that  the  time  had  expired.  If  my  old  age  has  not 
been  a  triumph,  it  has  been  one  of  great  tranquillity  and 
of  unalloyed  happiness,  with  an  amount  of  work,  mental 
and  physical,  just  sufficient  to  keep  me  comfortably  oc- 
cupied. I  am,  on  an  average,  three  to  three  and  a  half 
hours  in  the  streets  each  day,  in  making  my  professional 
rounds,  and  the  exercise  which  I  am  thus  compelled  to 
take  in  the  open  air  acts  as  a  safety-valve  to  my  constitu- 
tion, wdiich  might  otherwise  sink  into  a  state  of  sluggish- 
ness incompatible  with  sound  health. 

Few  if  any  physicians  or  surgeons  have  ever  been  more 
tormented  with  letters,  upon  all  kinds  of  subjects,  than 
myself.  To  answer  them  has  been  to  me  a  grievous  task, 
and  yet  there  have  hardly  been  any  that  could  be  safely 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  193 

overlooked  or  neglected.  ]\Iany  of  them  have  been  ad- 
dressed to  me  by  my  professional  brethren,  and  more 
especially  by  graduates  of  the  different  schools  with  which 
I  have  been  connected,  asking  advice  respecting  the 
nature  and  treatment  of  their  cases.  These  letters  could 
not  be  slighted  without  the  risk  of  making  these  men  my 
enemies,  and  thus  positively  injuring  myself  as  well  as  the 
institution  with  which  I  might  at  the  time  be  connected. 

The  writer  perhaps  tells  me  that  he  has  a  man  labor- 
ing under  a  tumor  or  morbid  growth,  concerning  which 
he  earnestly  desires  my  opinion,  adding,  it  may  be,  that 
his  diagnosis,  if  I  can  confinn  it,  will  be  the  making 
of  his  reputation.  Now,  much  as  I  like  to  assist  my 
professional  brethren  in  their  troubles,  I  never  lose  sight 
of  the  fact  that  I  owe  something  to  myself.  I  therefore 
always  answer  that,  inasmuch  as  I  have  not  seen  or  ex- 
amined the  case,  I  cannot  be  supposed  to  know  anything 
about  it.  To  give  an  opinion  in  the  dark,  founded  solely 
upon  the  statement  of  another,  perhaps  not  overly  wise, 
would  indeed  be  the  height  of  folly.  It  is  certainly  what 
no  sensible  man  should  do. 

A  professor  is  thus  a  dependent  creature.  If  his  pupils 
are  his  friends  they  send  him  patients,  and  his  school 
students ;  if  his  enemies,  they  withhold  both,  and  thus 
give  other  physicians  and  other  colleges  their  patronage. 
A  graduate  then  has  a  professor  greatly  in  his  power. 
The  same  remark  applies  to  advice  concerning  the  pur- 
chase of  books,  instruments,  and  apparatus. 

I  have  often  been  asked  to  give  my  opinion  upon  points 
of  professional  etiquette  ;  and  also  to  act  as  umpire  in  cases 
of  disputes  between  two  professional  brethren — no  very 
enviable  office,  certainly,  and  yet  not  always  avoidable, 
especially  in  the  case  of  old  pupils,  or  of  good  friends, 
whose  wishes  were  law  with  me.  Where  there  are  no  such 
bonds,  my  advice  is  to  steer  clear  of  the  responsibility  im- 
plied in  such  requests. 


194  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

I  am  not  uiifrequently  obliged  to  give  my  testimony  as 
an  expert  in  suits  for  malpractice,  in  behalf  of  practitioners 
of  whom  I  have  not  the  slightest  personal  knowledge,  and 
who  perhaps  live  at  a  great  distance  from  me.  Such  calls 
I  seldom  decline  if  I  find  that  the  defendant  is  a  worthy 
person,  as  I  consider  it  my  bounden  duty  always  to  defend 
a  professional  brother  when  he  is,  as  so  generally  happens, 
unjustly  prosecuted.  These  suits  have,  unfortunately, 
been  exceediugly  common  in  this  country  during  the  last 
twenty-five  years,  and,  from  what  I  know  of  them,  there 
is  reason  to  believe  that  they  are  generally  instigated  by 
dishonest  and  designing  medical  men,  intent  upon  the 
ruin  of  the  defendant,  who  is  thus  often  subjected  to  great 
trouble,  vexation,  expense,  and  even  loss  of  character. 
What  is  worse  than  all,  no  physician  or  surgeon,  however 
exalted  his  character  or  position,  is  exempt  from  them. 
There  are  at  this  moment — February,  1870 — three  suits  of 
this  kind  pending  in  our  courts  against  three  highly  re- 
spectable practitioners  in  this  city.  A  verdict  of  three 
thousand  dollars  was  rendered  against  the  late  Dr.  Paul 
B.  Goddard  for  an  operation  on  an  eye ;  and  Dr.  Horner, 
for  many  years  Professor  of  Anatomy  in  the  University  of 
Pennsylvania,  only  escaped  by  his  death  a  trial  for  mal- 
practice. These  suits  are  not  peculiar  to  this  country, 
though  they  are  much  more  common  among  us  than  they 
are  in  Europe.  The  celebrated  case  of  Bransby  B.  Cooper, 
the  nephew  of  the  great  Sir  Astley,  is  famous  in  medical 
history,  on  account  of  the  respectability  of  the  defendant 
and  the  outrageous  character  of  the  prosecution. 

Some  idea  of  the  extent  of  my  correspondence  may  be 
formed  when  I  state  that  my  paper,  envelopes,  ink,  and 
postage-stamps  cost  me  nearly  one  hundred  dollars  annu- 
ally. This  cost,  however,  is  a  trifle  compared  with  my 
time  and  labor.  Fortunately,  I  long  ago  learned  the 
proper  way  of  dealing  with  such  communications — by  short 
answers ;   and  yet  short  answers  will   not  always  suffice. 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  195 

A  man  must  do  himself  justice,  especially  wlien  lie  gives 
a  professional  opinion  ;  otherwise  he  must  bear  the  risk  of 
misrepresentation  and  its  ill  effects  upon  his  business  as  a 
sensible,  educated,  scientific  physician. 

The  most  laconic  answer  I  ever  returned  to  any  person 
was  the  following :  A  medical  man  wrote  to  me  about  a 
case  of  prolapse  of  the  iris  consequent  upon  a  wound  of  the 
cornea  in  a  young  child.  The  mother  would  not  allow 
the  iris  to  be  replaced,  fearing  the  effects  of  chloroform. 
At  the  end  of  twelve  days  the  physician  wrote  to  m.e  to 
know  whether  he  should  make  an  effort  at  reduction  or 
snip  off  the  protruding  portion.  To  this  I  simply  replied, 
' '  Snip, ' '  and  the  operation,  as  I  subsequently  learned,  was 
successful. 

I  am  often  asked  for  testimonials  of  character,  or  recom- 
mendations of  qualifications,  a  thing  I  never  grant  unless 
I  have  some  personal  knowdedge  of  the  applicant,  or  he 
comes  fully  indorsed  by  one  in  whose  judgment  and  hon- 
esty I  have  full  confidence.  To  act  otherwise  would  be 
highly  culpable. 

No  man  has  probably  been  more  frequently  tormented 
than  I  have  been  about  testimonials  for  all  kinds  of  things 
from  a  nipple-shield  to  an  electric  battery,  and  for  every 
intermediate  contrivance  that  can  be  conceived  of,  includ- 
ing cod-liver  oil,  vegetable  extracts,  toothpicks,  and  even 
blacking.  The  importunities  that  have  accompanied 
these  petitions  have  sometimes  been  very  great;  but  I 
have  invariably  had  the  firmness  to  resist  them  ;  and  if, 
after  I  am  dead  and  gone,  my  name  should  appear  in  con- 
nection with  any  such  document,  I  hereby  declare  that 
it  was  forged ;  for  I  never  gave  a  testimonial  for  such  a 
purpose.  A  newspaper  is  occasionally  sent  to  me  with 
a  quack  advertisement,  in  which  the  writer  has  had  the 
impudence  to  refer  to  my  name,  of  course  without  my 
knowledge  or  authority.  These  things  will  happen,  and 
they  are  not  a  little  annoying,  as  they  have  a  tendency  to 


196  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

place  one  in  a  false  position,  both  with  the  public  and  the 
profession. 

Swaim,  an  illiterate,  cunning  charlatan,  made  his  fortune 
with  his  ' '  Panacea ' '  on  the  strength  of  the  testimonials 
given  him  by  Chapman,  Dewees,  Hare,  and  Gibson,  Pro- 
fessors in  the  University  of  Pennsylvania.  How  these 
men  could  have  deliberately  committed  such  an  outrage 
upon  their  school  and  the  profession  has  always  been  a 
mystery  to  me.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  unwise, 
undignified,  or  unprofessional.  Physick,  who  had  been 
solicited  to  unite  with  them,  would  rather  have  burned 
off  his  right  hand  than  have  been  guilty  of  such  an  act 
He  had  a  higher  and  nobler  sense  of  what  was  due  to 
himself  and  his  profession.  Some  men  seem  to  have  a 
special  fondness  for  such  things.  Dr.  Miitter  at  one  time 
gave  his  name  to  all  kinds  of  testimonials,  evidently  from 
a  sheer  desire  for  notoriety.  I  have  now  before  me  a 
pamphlet,  entitled  Concentrated  Extract  of  Pinus  Cana- 
densis, a  quack  medicine,  indorsed  by  one  of  the  most 
eminent  gynaecologists  of  the  day  and  a  former  President 
of  the  American  Medical  Association  ;  and  there  are  hun- 
dreds of  just  such  men  in  this  country  who,  apparently 
for  the  sake  merely  of  seeing  their  names  in  print,  do  not 
hesitate  to  sacrifice  their  professional  dignity  and  degrade 
their  noble  calling. 

No  profession  can  sustain  itself  long  in  public  estimation 
unless  it  is  largely  composed  of  gentlemen,  men  of  mental 
culture,  refined  taste,  general  intelligence,  and  courtly 
bearing.  Unless  this  high  standard  is  sedulously  main- 
tained, loss  of  caste  and  decline  of  influence  will  be  no  less 
conspicuous  than  deplorable.  Of  nothing  do  I  feel  more 
profoundly  assured  than  this  :  that  there  can  be  no  salutary 
leadership  which  is  not  based  on  sound  morals  and  good 
breeding,  and  that  no  barrier  of  protection  should  be  thrown 
down  by  any  one — be  he  physician,  clergyman,  or  lawyer — 
who  wishes  to  secure  an  honored  and  a  lasting  reputation. 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  197 

The  medical  man  should  be  a  thorough  gentleman.  I 
have  heard  of  a  physician  losing  a  wealthy  lady  patient 
because  he  cleaned  his  nails  in  her  presence,  a  thing  which 
of  course  no  well-bred  gentleman  ever  does.  Walking 
roughly  across  the  floor  of  the  sick-chamber,  loud  talking, 
and  an  angry  or  impatient  tone  of  voice,  are  sure  to  be  com- 
mented upon,  and  not  unfrequently  lead  to  unpleasant 
consequences.  In  consultations,  which  always  take  place 
away  from  the  patient,  the  business  should  be  scrupulously 
confined  to  the  matter  in  hand.  Any  irrelevant  talk,  if 
overheard,  as  is  not  unfrequently  the  case,  is  often  inter- 
preted to  the  disadvantage  of  the  attendants,  on  the  ground 
that  they  do  not  take  sufficient  interest  in  the  welfare  of 
the  patient ;  and  in  truth  there  is  some  reason  for  such  a 
conclusion. 

I  always  had  private  pupils  during  my  early  professional 
life,  and  have  reason  to  believe  that  most  of  them  remained 
ever  afterwards  my  warm  friends.  A  few,  whom  I  most 
befriended  and  assisted  to  important  positions,  became 
lukewarm  and  apparently  indifferent,  thus  affording  an- 
other illustration  of  the  old  adage  that  ' '  The  more  you 
do  for  a  man  the  less  he  likes  you."  Some  of  my  pupils 
have  become  distinguished  teachers,  writers,  and  practi- 
tioners, and  have  thus  reflected  credit  upon  me  as  their 
preceptor.  Having  experienced  but  little  benefit  from 
private  instruction  myself,  I  spared  no  pains  to  advance 
the  interests  of  my  pupils,  and  to  use  every  effort  to 
inspire  them  with  an  honest  zeal  for  their  studies.  My 
practice  always  was  to  examine  them  at  a  certain  hour 
regularly  every  other  day,  or  thrice  a  week,  as  long  as 
they  were  under  my  charge,  not  with  book  in  hand,  as 
had  been  the  custom  with  my  own  preceptor,  but  extem- 
poraneously, often  explaining  matters  in  the  form  of 
familiar  lectures,  interspersed  with  apt  questions,  a  mode 
of  instruction  which  commends  itself  by  its  great  sim- 
plicity and  effectiveness,  as  it  interests  the  student  much 


198  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

more  than  any  other  practice  with  which  I  am  ac- 
quainted. One  and  a  half  to  two  hours  were  generally 
consumed  in  this  exercise.  The  teaching  was  always  con- 
ducted in  the  most  systematic  manner ;  the  pupils  were 
obliged  to  be  punctual  in  their  attendance ;  and  when- 
ever it  was  in  my  power,  I  showed  them  cases  and  illus- 
trated the  application  of  bandages  and  apparatus.  The 
regular  fee  for  private  tuition  was  one  hundred  dollars  a 
year ;  but,  although  I  had  altogether  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  private  pupils,  I  am  sure  I  never  made  three  thou- 
sand dollars  in  this  way,  as  there  were  many  who  never 
paid  me  anything  for  the  pains  I  took  in  instructing  them. 
Now  and  then  I  was  decidedly  a  loser,  as  some  of  them 
borrowed  money  of  me  which  they  never  returned.  Not 
many  of  these  men  have  risen  to  eminence,  although  a 
number  of  them  were  endowed  with  excellent  talents,  and 
would  doubtless  have  succeeded  in  acquiring  reputation 
if  they  had  not  been  deficient  in  these  most  important  of 
all  the  elements  of  greatness — industry  and  perseverance. 
The  two  who  have  thus  far  most  distinguished  themselves 
are  Dr.  T.  G.  Richardson,  Professor  of  Surgery  in  the 
University  of  Louisiana  at  New  Orleans,  and  Dr.  Nathan 
Bozeman,  who  has  earned  a  large  reputation — American 
and  European — as  a  gyUcEcologist.  Of  the  pupils  who 
have  attended  my  public  lectures  many  have  become  dis- 
tinguished teachers  and  practitioners  of  surgery,  and  not 
a  few  occupy  highly  respectable  positions  in  the  army  and 
navy. 

My  residence  in  Cincinnati,  as  stated  elsewhere,  was  one 
of  hard  work,  with  an  income  gradually  increasing,  but  at 
all  times  sufficient  for  my  slender  wants.  My  family  was 
small,  and  my  wife  and  I  economized  as  much  as  we  could. 
At  Louisville  I  made  a  great  deal  of  money,  but  my  ex- 
penses were  proportionably  great,  and  when  I  left,  my  prop- 
erty all  told  was  probably  not  worth  sixty  thousand  dollars. 
I  have  made  some  money  since  my  residence  here,  but  I 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  199 

am  not  rich — only  in  vety  easy,  comfortable  circumstances, 
the  best  condition,  perhaps,  in  which  a  rational  being  can 
be.  The  acquisition  of  money  has  never  been  my  aim  or 
desire.  I  have  lived  solely  for  my  profession.  If  I  had 
been  less  of  a  student,  I  might,  and  probably  would,  have 
been  a  richer  man.  I  have  never  engaged  in  any  specula- 
tions. I  have  made  by  hard  work  every  dollar  I  possess. 
My  librar}^,  although  not  very  large,  has  cost  me  a  consid- 
erable sum  ;  and  when  I  was  young  I  sometimes  bought 
books  when  I  could  ill  afford  the  purchase.  My  personal 
habits  have  never  been  expensive.  In  my  dress  I  have 
always  endeavored  to  be  neat ;  my  equipage  has  been  very 
plain  ;  and  my  study  has  always  been  simple,  without  any 
extravagance.  I  have  never  attempted  any  parade,  or 
been  guilty  of  ostentation  or  display.  In  riding  about  the 
city  I  have  never  been  so  happy  as  when  I  was  seated  in 
my  buggy,  with  reins  in  hand,  behind  a  respectable,  well- 
broken  ,  trustworthy  horse.  In  1867  I  bought  a  coupe, 
but  it  was  a  long  time  before  I  felt  at  home  in  it,  or 
became  reconciled  to  its  requirements.  Even  now,  after 
a  trial  of  nearly  three  years,  I  frequently  feel  lost  and 
uncomfortable  in  it. 

In  religion  I  have  been  for  the  greater  part  of  my  life  a 
Unitarian,  although  I  was  brought  up,  in  conformity  with 
my  mother's  wishes,  in  the  Lutheran  Church,  and  at  the 
age  of  fifteen  was  confirmed  and  took  the  sacrament,  after 
having  learned  nearly  the  whole  catechism  by  heart.  As 
I  grew  older  I  threw  aside  the  narrow  sectarianism  of  my 
childhood,  and  adopted  what  I  believe  to  be  the  most 
rational  doctrine  that  has  ever  been  proclaimed.  In  this 
faith  I  have  lived,  and  in  this  faith  I  hope  to  die.  My 
respect  for  the  Christian  religion  has  always  been  pro- 
found. Even  apart  from  the  disputed  doctrine  that  Christ 
is  God,  it  is  the  most  sublime  religion  that  has  ever 
prevailed  among  men ;  and  it  has  done  more  to  civilize, 
refine,  and  humanize  our  race  than  all  other  schemes  that 


200  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

have  ever  been  devised  for  our  salvation,  temporal  and 
eternal,  put  together.  In  my  }ounger  days  I  was  a  regular 
attendant  at  church  ;  but  for  many  years  past  I  have  been 
so  much  occupied,  professionally,  on  the  Sabbath  that  it 
has  seldom  been  in  my  power  to  be  there  more  than  per- 
haps half  a  dozen  times  a  year.  This  I  have  always 
sincerely  regretted.  As  it  was,  I  should  have  gone  much 
oftener  if  it  had  not  been  utterly  repugnant  to  my  feelings 
to  enter  my  pew  when  the  service  was  half  over,  or  to 
struggle  during  a  prosy  sermon  against  sleep,  brought  on 
by  excessive  mental  and  bodily  fatigue  incurred  in  the 
exercise  of  my  professional  duties. 

Many  of  the  most  distinguished  men  that  ever  lived 
were  Unitarians,  or  upheld  Unitarian  doctrines.  In  our 
own  country  Unitarianism  has  been  indorsed  by  Channing, 
Parker,  Emerson,  and  other  leading  minds ;  in  Germany 
it  found  a  warm  sympathizer  in  Herder ;  and  Dr.  Robert 
Knox,  the  great  Scotch  anatomist  and  anthropologist,  be- 
lieved in  it.  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  John  Milton,  and  John 
Locke  were  Unitarians,  together  with  many  of  the  noblest 
intellects  in  English  histor}'.  I  am  therefore  not  ashamed 
of  the  faith  that  is  in  me.  To  err  is  human ;  to  for- 
give divine.  One  part  of  my  religious  creed  is  to  be 
charitable  to  all  men,  of  whatever  faith,  provided  it  does 
not  lean  to  idolatr}\  No  human  being  can  tell  with 
any  degree  of  certainty  who  is  right  or  who  is  wrong. 
There  is  probably  no  religion  that  has  not  some  god- 
liness in  it  as  its  basis.  "The  fool  hath  said  in  his 
heart.  There  is  no  God."  A  greater  truism  never  was 
uttered. 

I  hold  it  to  be  unwise,  if  not  positively  criminal,  for  a 
physician  to  thrust  his  religious  views  upon  his  patients. 
If  his  views  differ  from  those  of  the  people  around  him,  es- 
pecially of  those  who  give  him  their  confidence  in  sickness 
and  in  sorrow,  it  is  little  less  than  brutal  to  disturb  their 
belief     It  is  better,   a  thousand  times  better,   to  remain 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  £>.  201 

silent,  and  to  intrust  all  such  matters  to  tlie  clergy,  to 
whom  they  properly  belong.  The  opinion  uttered  upon 
this  subject  by  Dr.  John  Gregor}-,  of  Edinburgh,  a 
hundred  years  ago,  coincides  so  fully  with  my  own 
that  I  cannot  refrain  from  quoting  it :  "A  physician 
who  has  the  misfortune  to  disbelieve  in  a  future  state 
will,  if  he  has  common  good-nature,  conceal  his  senti- 
ments from  those  under  his  charge  with  as  much  care 
as  he  would  preserve  them  from  the  infection  of  a  mortal 
disease. ' ' 

I  have  naturally,  as  all  men  must  have,  an  instinctive 
horror  of  death,  not  because  of  any  fear  about  the  dispo- 
sition of  my  soul,  but  because  my  life  has  been  a  pleasant 
one,  and  I  would  therefore  be  glad  to  hold  on  to  it.  I 
have  often  thought  that  our  lives  are  too  short  for  the 
amount  of  labor  we  are  obliged  to  perform.  Just  as  we 
begin  to  know  how  to  live,  and  become  comfortably  set- 
tled, we  are  obliged  to  go  hence,  whither  exactly  we 
know  not.  What  my  soul  is  God  has  not  revealed  to  me. 
Whatever  it  may  be.  He  will,  in  His  good  mercy  and 
great  kindness,  take  care  of  it.  I  have  doubtless  many 
sins,  but  more  of  omission  than  of  commission.  I  have 
never  believed  in  original  wickedness.  Man  is  only  man  ; 
he  is  weak  and  frail  by  nature,  and  he  must  therefore  do 
a  great  many  things  that  are  displeasing  to  his  Creator. 
Imperfection  is  his  great  characteristic. 

When  I  am  dead  I  should  like  to  be  burned.  It  is  not 
to  me  a  pleasant  idea  to  be  put  six  feet  under  ground, 
without  the  possibility  of  ever  again  reaching  the  surface. 
I  have  a  great  respect  for  urn  burial,  and  hope  the  day  is 
not  distant  when  it  will  come  into  general  use.  I  know 
of  no  more  disagreeable  sight  than  a  graveyard,  especially 
in  a  city.  It  is  amazing  that  civilization  should  ever  have 
tolerated  such  a  nuisance.  To  me  nothing  is  more  dis- 
tasteful or  disgusting.  It  is  a  relic  of  barbarism  of  the 
worst  kind.  I  want  to  be  useful  when  I  am  dead,  which 
I — 26 


202  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

I  cannot  be  if  I  am  stuck  away  six  feet  into  the  earth. 
If  I  am  burned,  my  body  will  enter  again  into  new  crea- 
tions, and  thus  be  subservient  to  some  useful  purpose.  It 
may  assist  in  animating  a  flower,  in  ornamenting  the 
plumage  of  a  bird,  or  in  directing  the  movements  of  a 
caterpillar.  I  prefer  anything  rather  than  to  be  obliged 
to  decay  in  the  earth  and  lie  forever  idle. 

If  I  am  obliged  to  be  buried  as  other  people  are,  I  wish 
to  lie  in  some  spot  where  birds  may  sing  over  my  grave, 
and  where  occasionally  a  friendly  hand  may  deposit  a 
flower,  as  a  memento  of  respect  and  devotion  to  my 
memory.  An  immortelle  is  worth  all  the  chiselled  marble 
that  was  ever  erected  over  a  man's  tomb. 

There  is  some  choice  in  regard  to  a  man's  death.  If  I 
could  have  my  own  way,  I  should  select  apoplexy  as  the 
most  desirable  mode  of  exit.  It  does  its  work  quickly, 
and  generally  very  gracefully,  very  much  like  an  anaes- 
thetic, without  the  consciousness  of  the  individual.  The 
Litany  contains  a  prayer  against  sudden  death,  considering 
it  as  a  great  evil ;  but  this  has  reference  solely  to  a  man's 
religious  preparation.  It  assumes  that  a  slow  death  affords 
a  person  a  better  chance  to  get  ready  for  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  A  sensible  man  should  always  be  ready.  His 
motto  should  be,  Niinquam  iio)t  paratus,  I  have  seen 
so  much  of  chronic  death,  as  it  may  be  called,  that  I 
pray  God  to  preserve  me  and  mine  from  its  appalling 
affliction.  What  can  be  more  horrible,  more  truly  ago- 
nizing than  death  from  consumption  or  cancer?  When 
my  hour  comes  I  hope  the  Destroyer  will  do  me  a 
friendly  act  by  extinguishing  life  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye,  and  thus  save  me  from  the  pangs  of  gradual  dissolu- 
tion. "Oh,  that  my  life  may  go  out  like  the  snufl"  of  a 
candle!" 

Few  persons  can  look  upon  death  with  the  same  com- 
posure as  Mrs.  Barbauld,  who  in  her  old  age  composed  the 
following  beautiful  lines : 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D,  203 

"  Life  !  we've  been  long  together 
Through  pleasant  and  through  cloudy  weather ; 
'Tis  hard  to  part  when  friends  are  dear; 
Perhaps  't  will  cost  a  sigh,  a  tear; 
Then  steal  away,  give  little  warning, 
Choose  thine  own  time ; 

Say  not  '  Good-night,'  but  in  some  happier  clime 
Bid  me  '  Good-morning.'  " 

The  practice  of  medicine  leaves  one  little  leisure  for  the 
study  of  the  classics  or  the  cultivation  of  the  fine  arts.  A 
physician  who  has  little  or  no  business  is  in  a  sad  condi- 
tion ;  one  who  is  overAvhelmed  with  it  is,  if  possible,  still 
worse  off,  for  his  mind  and  body  are  on  a  constant  strain, 
affording  him  no  opportunity  for  recreation,  for  domestic 
enjoyment,  or  for  the  charms  of  literature.  It  is  reported 
of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Matthew  Baillie,  of  London,  that 
when  he  was  at  the  height  of  his  practice  he  often  came 
home  so  much  exhausted  that  if  a  member  of  his  family 
made  a  sign  to  approach  him,  he  would  motion  him  back 
with  uplifted  hands,  and  sink  down  in  the  first  convenient 
chair  to  rest  himself  *  Many,  many  times  have  I  experi- 
enced similar  feelings  after  I  had  been  up  all  night  with 
a  sick  patient,  had  performed  a  tedious  and  delicate  opera- 
tion, or  had  held  a  protracted  clinic,  attended  with  more 
than  ordinary  labor  and  anxiety.  No  man  in  such  a  con- 
dition wants  to  be  troubled  with  company,  idle  talk,  or 
light  reading.  What  he  needs  is  substantial  repose  of 
mind  and  body,  to  reinvigorate  his  exhausted  powers.  It 
is  certainly  highly  desirable  that  every  physician  should 
know  something  outside  of  his  own  profession ;  that  he 
should  have  a  general  acquaintance  with  art,  science, 
geography,  travel,  poetry,  and  history-,  in  order  that  he 


*  On  one  occasion  Baillie  was  paying;  a  visit  to  a  lady  affected  with  some  trivial 
complaint ;  she  had  plied  him  with  all  sorts  of  questions,  when,  tearing  himself 
away,  he  ran  headlong  down  the  stairs.  ".Stop!"  said  the  unrelenting  creature; 
"  may  I  eat  oysters  ?"     "  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "  shells  and  all,  madam." 


204  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

may  appear  before  the  world  at  least  as  a  man  of  some  cul- 
ture and  general  information.  It  is  not  necessar}^  that  he 
should  be  profoundly  versed  in  any  of  these  things.  Such 
knowledge  can  be  obtained  only  at  the  expense  of  his  pro- 
fession, to  which  he  owes  his  first  duty,  his  best  allegiance, 
and  which,  if  properly  cultivated,  allows  him  but  little  time 
for  extraneous  work.  I  have  frequently  found  that  physi- 
cians who  pride  themselves  upon  their  classical  attain- 
ments, their  knowledge  of  literature,  or  their  scientific 
proficiency,  are  poor  practitioners,  who  seldom  contribute 
any  useful  facts  to  the  stock  of  their  profession.  They 
are  like  meteors,  very  brilliant,  but  of  little  use  as  prac- 
titioners of  the  healing  art.  There  was  a  time,  as  in  the 
days  of  Radcliffe,  IMead,  and  Johnson,  when  medical  men, 
even  if  in  large  practice,  had  an  abundance  of  leisure,  a 
portion  of  which  at  least  they  could  devote  to  social  en- 
joyment and  to  the  attractions  of  literature.  But  things 
are  different  nowadays.  Medicine  has  become  a  great  and 
complex  study,  and  he  who  would  excel  in  it,  whether 
considered  merely  as  an  art  or  as  a  science,  must  be  wide 
awake,  and  give  himself  up,  soul  and  body,  to  its  interests. 
No  half  measures  will  suffice.  She  is  a  zealous  mistress, 
and  will  not  put  up  with  evasive  coquetry. 

It  has  been  said  of  lawyers  that  he  who  preserves  his 
honor  unspotted  deserves  a  place  in  the  calendar  of  saints, 
so  rarely,  it  would  seem,  do  they  pass  unscathed  through 
the  fiery  ordeal  of  professional  life,  a  life  beset  with  so  many 
temptations.  I  would  fain  hope  that  such  a  sentiment 
is  a  slander  upon  the  members  of  the  bar.  However 
this  may  be,  I  am  quite  sure  that  the  remark  does  not 
apply  to  medical  men.  Faults  undoubtedly  we  have,  and 
there  are,  it  is  equally  true,  many  bad  men  among  us; 
but,  in  the  main,  physicians  are  high-toned,  upright,  con- 
scientious, and  honorable  men,  who  practise  their  profes- 
sion not  so  much  for  the  love  of  gain  as  for  the  opportuni- 
ties it  affords  them  of  doing  good.     It  is  rarely  that  we 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  205 

hear  of  a  patient  being  neglected,  overcharged,  or  in  any- 
wise ill  treated.  The  secrets  which  are  confided  to  them 
in  their  professional  interconrse  are  seldom  revealed ;  and 
if,  now  and  then,  there  is  a  gossip  among  them,  he  is 
commonly  short-lived,  the  community  soon  fixing  a  brand 
upon  him  by  which  all  men  shall  know  him.  I  am  often 
told  that  the  professional  standard  is  lower  than  it  was 
forty  or  fifty  years  ago.  Certainly  it  is  low  enough,  but 
this  is  a  great  slander.  Physicians  at  the  present  day, 
without  being  more  refined,  or  without  having  any  better 
preliminary  education,  are  more  highly  educated  than  for- 
merly ;  our  means  of  instruction  are  far  greater,  and  the 
instruction  itself  is  of  a  much  higher  order.  The  time 
will  come  when  this  matter  will  regulate  itself,  when  a 
liiofher  standard  will  be  demanded  both  of  brains  and  of 
preparatory  knowledge,  and  when  our  instruction  will  be 
better  systematized,  and  the  student  required  to  study  a 
much  longer  time  and  to  make  better  use  of  his  opportuni- 
ties than  he  now  does.  Meanwhile,  some  of  our  schools 
at  least  do  the  best  they  can.  It  is  unfortunately  only  too 
true  that  many  of  the  young  men  of  the  present  day  study 
and  practise  merely  as  a  trade,  or  as  a  means  of  obtaining  a 
livelihood.  Our  examinations  for  the  doctorate  are  too 
lax,  and  the  candidate  is  let  loose  upon  the  world  without 
that  practical  knowledge  of  his  profession  so  necessar}'  to 
meet  the  emergencies  of  daily  life.  Our  opportunities  for 
the  acquisition  of  this  knowledge  are  as  great  and  varied 
here  as  they  are  anywhere  in  the  wide,  wide  world.  But 
our  young  men  are  too  impatient  to  benefit  by  them. 
They  are  in  hot  haste  to  break  through  the  shackles  of 
student  life,  and  to  embark  upon  the  rough  sea  of  practice 
without  a  due  appreciation  of  the  quicksands  that  lie  in 
their  path,  and  upon  which  so  many  are  wrecked. 

Industry  does  a  great  deal  towards  building  up  a  practice 
and  laying  the  foundation  of  an  enduring  reputation.  Dr. 
William  Stokes,  of  Dublin,  who  attained  to  the  highest 


2o6  AUTOBIOGRArHY  OF 

pinnacle  of  reputation  long  before  he  died,  made  this  entry 
in  his  diary  at  the  age  of  twenty-two :  "I  rise  early,  write 
until  breakfast,  then  go  to  the  dispensary,  where  I  sit 
in  judgment  on  disease  for  an  hour ;  then  to  the  hos- 
pital, where  I  go  round  the  wards  attended  by  a  crowd  of 
pupils ;  from  the  hospital  I  return  home,  write  again  till 
two,  and  then  go  round  and  visit  my  patients  through  dif- 
ferent parts  of  tlie  town,  attended  by  a  pupil.  Many  of 
my  patients  have  one  great  defect,  viz.,  that,  instead  of 
giving  money,  they  too  often,  unfortunate  beings,  have  to 
solicit  it  from  their  medical  attendant ;  and  who,  with  the 
heart  of  a  man,  would  refuse  to  relieve  their  sufferings 
when  he  has  a  shilling  in  his  pocket?  A  poor  woman 
whom  I  attended  long,  and  who  ultimately  recovered,  said, 
'  Oh,  doctor,  you  have  given  me  a  good  stomach,  but  I 
have  nothing  to  put  into  it.'  "  Thousands  of  young  prac- 
titioners, who  are  in  search  of  practice  in  a  large  city, 
and  who  must  be  content,  often  for  5'ears,  with  the  scum 
of  the  alle}'S  and  byways,  can  indorse  the  truth  of  this 
statement  of  the  Irish  physician.  My  heart  has  often  ached 
and  my  pocket  opened  under  such  sad  circumstances. 

Mungo  Park,  the  celebrated  traveller,  who  was  educated 
to  the  profession  of  medicine,  declared  that  he  greatly  pre- 
ferred the  life  of  an  explorer  in  the  wilds  of  Africa  to  the 
drudgeries  of  practice  among  the  hills,  moorland,  and 
heaths  of  Scotland,  his  native  country.  He  mentions  that 
he  rode  one  day  a  distance  of  forty  miles  on  horseback,  sat 
up  all  night  in  attendance  upon  a  woman  laboring  under 
the  throes  of  parturition,  and  received  as  his  fee  a  roasted 
potato  and  a  glass  of  buttermilk.  It  is  not  every  obstetri- 
cian that  can  boast  even  of  such  a  grand  reward.  I  my- 
self, in  my  earlier  days,  on  more  occasions  than  one,  put 
up  with  less. 

It  may  be  well  for  m.e  here  to  enumerate  briefly  some 
of  my  labors  and  original  contributions  to  medicine  and 
surger}^,  apart  from  authorship  : 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  207 

Experiments  on  dogs  and  rabbits,  in  1833,  during  my 
residence  at  Easton,  to  illustrate  the  subject  of  manual 
strangulation.  A  full  account  of  these  experiments  was 
published  in  Drake's  Western  Journal  of  Medicine,  vol.  ix., 
and  an  abstract  of  them  will  be  found  in  Beck's  Medical 
Jurisprudence,  vol.  ii. 

Experiments  upon  excretion,  to  ascertain  the  rapid 
transit  of  certain  articles,  when  taken  into  the  stomach, 
through  the  blood  by  the  kidneys.  For  this  purpose  rabbits 
were  selected,  to  which,  after  having  tied  both  renal 
arteries,  protoxide  of  iron  was  administered.  The  animals 
were  killed  within  thirty  minutes,  and  upon  applying  a 
solution  of  cyanide  of  potassium  to  the  urine,  well-marked 
traces  of  iron  were  invariably  found  in  that  fluid. 

During  my  residence  in  Cincinnati  I  spent  much  time 
in  weighing  and  measuring  healthy  organs,  as  well  as 
in  studying  their  color  and  consistence,  with  a  view  of 
determining  the  more  readily  their  changes  in  disease. 
The  results  of  these  examinations  were  embodied  in  my 
treatise  on  Pathological  Anatomy.  My  examinations  of 
the  prostate  have  been  fully  quoted  by  Sir  Henry  Thomp- 
son and  others. 

My  experiments  on  the  nature  and  treatment  of  wounds 
of  the  intestines  are  referred  to  on  a  previous  page.  They 
occupied  fully  two  years  of  my  leisure  time,  and  were  per- 
formed soon  after  I  entered  the  University  of  Louisville. 

In  my  Pathological  Anatomy  I  have  given  an  account 
of  a  number  of  dissections  of  specimens  of  false  concep- 
tions, or  uterine  moles,  as  they  are  termed — the  first  ac- 
count of  them  in  the  English  language,  as  far  as  I  know. 

During  my  residence  at  Easton,  I  took,  with  the  great- 
est possible  care,  fifty  observations  on  the  temperature  of 
venous  blood  in  healthy  persons  of  both  sexes,  the  result 
being  an  average  of  96°  Fahr.  The  results  of  these  inves- 
tigations were  published,  in  1835,  in  the  Western  IMedical 
Gazette,  vol.  ii. 


2o8  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

Deep  stitches  in  wounds  of  the  wall  of  the  abdomen, 
to  prevent  hernia  or  protrusion  of  the  bowel  after  recovery. 
As  far  as  my  reading  extends  I  know  of  no  work  on  sur- 
gery in  which  this  subject  was  placed  in  its  true  light,  or, 
indeed,  any  light  prior  to  the  publication  of  my  mono- 
graph on  wounds  of  the  intestines.  Of  course  every  sur- 
geon speaks  of  it  now. 

The  invention  of  an  enterotome  for  the  treatment  of 
artificial  anus,  intended  to  supersede  the  clumsy  contri- 
vance of  Dupuytren. 

A  tracheotomy  forceps,  for  the  extraction  of  foreign 
bodies  from  the  air-passages,  favorably  mentioned  by 
writers  on  surgery. 

Wiring  the  ends  of  the  bones  in  dislocations  of  the 
sterno-clavicular  and  acromio-clavicular  joints,  taught 
originally  in  my  lectures  in  the  University  of  Louisville 
soon  after  I  took  charge  of  the  chair  of  Surgery  in  that 
school.  Since  successfully  practised  by  the  late  Dr. 
Cooper,  of  San  Francisco,  and  by  Dr.  Hodgen,  of  St. 
Louis. 

Blood  catheter,  an  instrument  for  drawing  off  the  urine, 
when  mixed  with  blood,  or  when  the  openings  of  the 
ordinary  catheter  become  obstructed  with  blood,  as  it  is 
passed  along  the  urethra. 

An  arterial  compressor — a  peculiar  pair  of  forceps — 
for  arresting  hemorrhage  in  deep-seated  vessels  not  acces- 
sible to  the  ligature  or  amenable  to  torsion  or  acupressure, 
as  in  the  perineum  after  lithotomy. 

A  tourniquet,  or  compressor,  constructed  in  the  form 
of  a  clamp,  for  compressing  the  vessels  of  the  extremities 
in  amputation,  now  superseded  by  Esmarch's  bandage  ; 
still  of  use  in  compressing  the  axillary  artery  in  amputa- 
tion at  the  shoulder  joint. 

An  instrument  for  extracting  foreign  bodies  from  the 
nose  and  ear,  found  in  nearly  every  pocket-case  in  the 
country. 


SAMUEL   D.   GROSS,  M.  D.  209 

Modification  of  Pirogoff's  amputation  at  the  ankle  joint, 
unjustly  ascribed  to  Dr.  Quimby  of  Jersey  City. 

Laparotomy  in  rupture  of  the  bladder. 

Direct  operation  for  hernia  by  suturing  the  pillars  of  the 
ring. 

Mode  of  operating  for  inverted  toe-nail. 

Apparatus  for  the  transfusion  of  blood. 

First  account  of  Prostatorrhoea. 

Description  of  a  new  form  of  neuralgia  of  the  jaws  in 
old  persons. 

Pododynia,  a  disease  of  the  foot,  first  described  by  me. 

I  was  the  first  to  describe  the  use  of  adhesive  plaster 
as  a  means  of  making  extension  in  the  treatment  of  frac- 
tures of  the  lower  extremity.  The  account  was  published 
in  my  work  on  Injuries  and  Diseases  of  the  Bones,  in  1830. 
The  case  in  which  this  treatment  was  originally  employed 
was  one  of  compound  fracture  in  the  practice  of  my  first 
preceptor.  Dr.  Joseph  K.  Swift,  of  Easton,  Pennsylvania. 

When  I  settled  in  Philadelphia  the  practice  among  the 
more  distinguished  physicians  was  to  administer  morphia 
and  quinine  in  very  small  doses,  the  former  generally  in 
about  the  one-eighth  of  a  grain  and  the  latter  in  about  a 
grain,  repeated  ever>'  two,  three,  or  four  hours.  A  quarter 
of  a  grain  of  morphia  was  considered  a  very  large  dose,  and 
half  a  grain  was  rarely  ventured  upon  in  any  case.  When 
in  my  didactic  lectures  and  at  the  clinics  I  spoke  of  half  a 
grain  as  a  minimum  dose  in  inflammation,  and  of  one  grain 
as  a  proper  dose  in  severe  pain,  many  of  my  new  confreres 
held  up  their  hands  in  holy  horror,  and  yet  now  this  very 
practice  is  quite  prevalent  among  us.  Does  not  common 
sense  teach  that  a  small  anodyne  in  violent  suffering  is 
worse  than  useless?  So  of  quinine  :  what  use  is  there  in 
small  doses  in  cases  of  emergency,  as  in  neuralgia  and 
intermittent  fever  ?  In  a  duel  which  is  to  decide  the  fate 
of  a  nation,  it  would  be  folly  to  oppose  a  pigmy  against  a 
giant,  or  to  fight  with  a  pistol  against  a  chassepot.     The 

I — 27 


2IO  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

dose  must  be  sncli  as  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  the  partic- 
ular case.  Of  course,  there  are  proper  limits  in  all  things, 
which  no  man  of  sense  will  lightly  disregard. 

As  far  as  my  reading  extends,  I  was  the  first  to  suggest 
the  use  of  ergot  in  the  treatment  of  diabetes.  The  case 
was  that  of  a  woman — a  patient  of  Dr.  Shearer,  of  Sink- 
ing Springs,  Berks  County,  Pennsylvania,  who  afterwards 
published  an  account  of  it  in  the  Philadelphia  Medical  and 
Surgical  Reporter.  Although  the  case  was  a  bad  one,  the 
quantity  of  water  discharged  in  the  twenty-four  hours  being 
very  large,  perfect  recovery  took  place,  entirely  ascribable 
to  the  use  of  the  ergot.  Since  then  the  article  has  been 
employed  in  very  numerous  instances  with  great  success 
in  this  affection.  A  full  account  of  this  treatment  is  con- 
tained in  the  late  Dr.  Napheys's  Therapeutics. 

Many  years  ago  I  suggested  a  new  method  of  treat- 
ing ganglia  of  the  hand  and  foot  by  the  subcutaneous 
division  of  the  cyst,  comminuting  it  most  thoroughly  by 
means  of  the  tenotome,  and  then  making  firm  compres- 
sion with  sheet-lead  and  a  compress  and  bandage — a  plan 
now  generally  pursued  in  this  country,  if  not  also  in 
Europe. 

The  opening  of  chronic  abscesses  is,  as  is  well  known, 
when  practised  by  the  ordinary  method,  almost  invariably 
followed  by  high  constitutional  reaction,  or  hectic  irrita- 
tion. To  prevent  this  occurrence  I  have  been  in  the  habit 
— at  least  for  a  quarter  of  a  century — of  placing  the  pa- 
tient immediately  under  the  full  influence  of  opium,  and 
keeping  up  the  impression  for  at  least  five  or  six  days,  by 
the  end  of  which  time  the  system  has  usually  fully  accom- 
modated itself  to  its  new  relations.  I  have  never  known 
any  bad  effects  to  arise,  even  when  the  opening  was  very 
free,  in  the  most  depraved  constitution,  where  this  treat- 
ment was  properly  carried  out.  If  this  practice  is  not 
original  with  me,  I  have  never  seen  any  account  of  it,  and 
must  therefore  claim  some  credit  for  it. 


SAMUEL  D.    GJiOSS,   Af.D.  21 1 

The  inflammaton'  origin  and  vitality  of  tubercle  of  the 
lungs  and  other  structures  were  for  a  long  time  doubted 
by  most  pathologists  in  this  country  and  in  Europe. 
These  doctrines,  so  directly  in  harmony  with  common 
sense  and  the  results  of  accurate  observation,  I  taught 
with  great  emphasis  in  my  lectures  in  the  Cincinnati  Col- 
lege and  afterwards  in  my  work  on  Pathological  Anatomy, 
and  they  are  now  the  accepted  doctrines  of  the  schools. 
The  vitality  of  tubercle  is,  of  course,  very  feeble,  and 
hence,  after  a  certain  period,  it  is  sure  to  undergo  softening 
and  degeneration. 

The  propriety  of  amputating  in  senile  gangrene  has  long 
been  a  disputed  question.  If  the  operation  be  ever  proper, 
and  there  are  certainly  cases  in  which  it  is,  it  should  inva- 
riably be  performed,  as  I  have  reason  to  believe  I  was  the 
first  to  teach,  at  a  great  distance  from  the  seat  of  the  dis- 
ease, after  a  very  perfect  line  of  demarcation  has  formed. 
The  disease,  as  is  well  known,  is  dependent  upon  calcifi- 
cation of  the  arteries,  leading  to  the  formation  of  emboli, 
or  fibrinous  clots,  in  their  interior,  with  consequent  ob- 
struction of  the  circulation,  followed  by  the  death  of  the 
parts  thus  deprived  of  blood.  As  the  degeneration  of  the 
arterial  tissues  often,  if  not  generally,  extends  a  consid- 
erable distance  beyond  the  gangrenous  structures,  there  is 
every  reason  why,  if  amputation  be  performed,  the  limb 
should  be  removed  at  a  great  distance  from  the  affected 
parts  to  prevent  a  recurrence  of  the  disease.  Thiis,  for 
instance,  in  gangrene  of  the  foot,  amputation  should  be 
performed  only  a  short  distance  below  the  knee,  and  in 
gangrene  involving  the  ankle  or  lower  part  of  the  leg, 
nearly  as  high  up  or  quite  as  high  as  the  middle  of  the 
thigh. 

If  I  was  not  the  first  to  suggest,  I  was  certainly  the  first, 
at  least  in  this  countr}',  to  sew  together  the  ends  of  an 
accidentally  divided  tendon  of  the  hand.  The  ends  were 
refreshed,  and  united  by  wire  suture.     The  parts  did  well, 


212    AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  SAMUEL  D.  GROSS,  M.D. 

and  an  excellent  cure  was  the  result.     The  operation  has 
only  of  late  years  begun  to  attract  attention. 

In  my  lectures  on  surgery  for  many  years  I  have  taught 
that  what  are  usually  called  scrofulous  diseases  are  noth- 
ing but  remote  forms  of  syphilis,  in  which  the  latter  dis- 
ease has  lost  its  distinctive  features.  The  more  I  see  of 
such  cases  the  more  I  am  convinced  that  I  am  right.  My 
views  upon  this  subject  are  fully  set  forth  in  the  address 
which  I  delivered  at  Detroit,  in  1874,  on  Syphilis  in  its 
Relation  to  the  National  Health. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

TTSIT  EUROPE — BERNE — ALBERT  VON  HALLER — ESTIMATE  OF  HIS  CHARACTER 
AND  WORKS — VIENNA — OBJECTS  OF  INTEREST — ALLGEMEINES  KRANKENHAUS 
— ROKITANSKY — VIENNA  SCHOOL  OF  SURGERY — BILLROTH — DRESDEN — BER- 
LIN— VIRCHOW — VON  LANGENBECK — VON  GRAEFE — UNIVERSITY  OF  BERLIN — 
EHRENBERG. 

I  HAD  long  been  desirous  of  visiting  Europe  for  the 
purpose  of  becoming  better  acquainted  by  personal  obser- 
vation with  her  people  and  her  institutions,  but  more  par- 
ticularly for  the  opportunity  that  would  thus  be  afforded 
me  of  meeting  some  of  the  distinguished  medical  men 
with  whose  names  and  works  I  had  been  familiar,  and 
with  many  of  whom  I  had  been  for  years  in  correspond- 
ence. I  had  wished  to  see  the  practical  working  of  the 
medical  schools  and  the  hospitals  of  the  Old  World,  and 
the  magnificent  museums  with  which  some  of  the  larger 
British  and  Continental  cities  are  enriched.  I  had  longed 
to  visit  the  scenes  of  the  early  struggles  and  triumphs  of 
a  Haller,  a  Hunter,  and  a  Cooper,  and  to  compare  Euro- 
pean with  American  medical  science.  In  1868  the  severe 
indisposition  of  my  wife  demanded  entire  change  of  scene 
and  air,  and  accordingly  in  May  of  that  year  we  set  sail 
for  France.  It  is  not  my  purpose,  nor  would  it  be  my 
pleasure,  to  give  a  detailed  sketch  of  this  visit.  The  un- 
usual facilities  now  enjoyed  for  reaching  Europe,  and  the 
great  number  of  works  annually  published  as  the  result 
of  foreign  travel  shoiild  alone  preclude  my  undertaking 
such  a  task,  even  if  want  of  space  were  not  pleaded  as  an 
excuse  for  the  rather  disjointed  way  in  which  portions  of 
this  visit  are  related.     Accompanied  by  my  son,  A.  Haller 


214 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


Gross,  who  joined  us  in  Paris,  and  who  had  already  been 
for  some  time  on  the  Continent  engaged  in  study  and 
travel,  we  spent  several  delightful  months. 

Some  of  the  pleasantest  recollections  of  this  visit  are 
connected  with  Berne,  the  city  of  the  bears,  where  the 
chief  attraction  for  me  was  the  house  in  which  Von 
Haller,  the  great  physiologist,  lived  for  so  many  years, 
and  in  which  he  finally  died.*  A  young,  well-dressea, 
ladylike  woman  responded  to  the  old  knocker,  and  with 
a  polite  courtesy  bade  me  enter.  Telling  her  that  I  was 
an  American  physician,  I  explained  the  object  of  my  visit, 
and  to  my  great  delight  found  that  she  was  a  connection 
by  marriage  of  the  Von  Haller  family.  When  I  told  her 
that  my  son,  then  present,  w^as  named  for  Haller,  it  seemed 
as  if  she  could  not  do  too  much  for  us.  The  house,  an 
old  two-story  stone  structure  with  a  deep  basement,  is 
situated  upon  an  elevated  street,  almost  immediately  oppo- 
site to,  and  only  a  very  short  distance  from,  the  mouth  of 
the  river  Aar,  a  fierce,  tumultuous  stream  rushing  down 
from  the  Alps,  which,  with  their  snow-capped  summits,  are 
in  full  view  of  this  classic  residence.  One  of  the  principal 
objects  which  attracted  my  attention  was  a  marble  tablet 
in  the  wall  of  the  hall  inscribed  with  the  date  of  Haller' s 
birth  and  death.  My  kind  cicerone  evinced  great  pleasure 
in  showing  me  the  apartment  which  had  once  formed  the 
study  and  library  of  this  great  and  good  man ;  and  upon 
taking  my  leave  of  her  she  presented  me  with  a  beautiful 
rose  from  a  small  parterre  on  the  veranda  overlooking  the 
Aar.  Of  this  flower  I  sent  some  petals  to  my  good  friend, 
the  late  Professor  Robley  Dunglison,  whose  work  on  physi- 

*  It  is  related  that  on  one  occasion  an  English  traveller  wended  his  way  to  the 
house  of  the  great  physiologist  that  he  might  worship  at  his  shrine.  Some  time 
afterwards,  meeting  with  Voltaire,  he  was  surprised  to  hear  the  distinguished 
Frenchman  refer  to  Haller  in  terms  of  praise  and  admiration,  adding,  "  Haller 
does  not  speak  so  well  of  you."  "Alas!  possibly  we  are  both  mistaken,"  re 
plied  Voltaire,  with  great  coolness  and  a  shrug  of  the  shoulder. 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  215 

ology  may  justly  be  regarded  in  our  day  in  the  same  light 
in  which  Mailer's  was  in  his — a  monument  of  erudition 
and  of  stupendous  industry,  worthy  of  any  age  or  countr}'. 

From  my  earliest  professional  life  I  had  been  a  warm 
admirer  of  the  character  and  writings  of  the  Swiss  physi- 
ologist. During  my  pupilage  I  had  read  his  First  Lines 
of  Physiology ;  and  soon  after  I  obtained  my  medical 
degxee  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  secure  the  German  edition 
of  his  great  work,  in  eight  duodecimo  volumes,  a  resume 
of  all  that  had  been  published  upon  the  subject  up  to  the 
time  of  its  appearance,  near  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  This  work  is  not  a  mere  compilation.  While  it 
partakes  largely  of  this  character,  as  every  work  of  the 
kind  professing  to  give  a  full  histor}^  of  the  science  neces- 
sarily must,  it  embodies  a  great  amount  of  original  matter, 
the  results  of  the  experiments  of  Haller  and  of  his  pupils, 
many  of  whom  afterwards  became  distinguished  men, 
worthy  of  the  fame  of  such  a  master.  This  work  passed 
through  many  editions,  was  translated  into  the  principal 
languages  of  Europe,  and  will  be  referred  to  in  all  time 
to  come  as  a  true  and  faithful  exponent  of  the  science  and 
literature  of  physiologv'  up  to  the  time  of  the  death  of  its 
illustrious  author. 

Haller  was,  in  every  respect,  a  wonderful  man,  many- 
sided,  endowed  with  a  lofty  genius.  He  was  a  hard  worker, 
a  lover  of  nature  and  of  art,  with  an  inquisitive  mind  in- 
cessantly bent  upon  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  a  skilful 
interpreter  of  science,  and,  in  the  truest  sense  of  the  term, 
a  seeker  after  truth.  He  was,  as  is  conceded  by  all, 
the  most  learned  man  of  his  day.  What  Erasmus  was  in 
the  sixteenth  century  Haller  was  in  the  eighteenth.  He 
spoke  with  great  fluency  nearly  ever}^  living  language  of 
Europe,  and  was  a  thorough  master  of  Greek  and  Latin. 
Born  in  1708,  his  childhood  was  passed  in  constant  study, 
in  which  he  made  such  marvellous  progress  that  when,  in 
his  tenth  year,  he  was  examined  for  admission  into  the 


2i6  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

gymnasium,  he  performed  the  self-imposed  task  of  trans- 
lating his  German  exercises  into  Greek,  instead  of  Latin,  as 
he  had  been  requested  to  do.  He  had  alread}-,  at  this  time, 
prepared  brief  sketches  of  the  lives  of  more  than  two 
thousand  distinguished  men,  and  made  some  progress  in 
the  study  of  Hebrew  and  Chaldaic.  It  is  asserted  by  one 
of  his  biographers  that  he  wrote  Latin  like  Tacitus.  He 
had  the  merit  of  introducing  a  new  era  into  German  liter- 
ature. Excepting  Luther,  no  man  perhaps  ever  did  more 
than  he  to  advance  its  interests,  or  to  invest  it  with  so 
much  respect.  For  more  than  half  a  century  the  German 
language  had  lost  caste  among  the  higher  orders  of  society, 
and  had  been  effectually  banished  from  the  German  courts, 
which,  in  their  imbecility,  abjured  their  mother-tongue  and 
substituted  for  it  the  French  language,  which  few  of  them 
spoke  with  fluency  and  none  with  accuracy.  Haller,  whose 
literar>'  tastes  were  of  a  high  order,  and  whose  researches 
penetrated  into  almost  every  branch  of  knowledge — science, 
theology,  statesmanship,  politics,  and  even  law — did  much 
to  correct  this  state  of  things  by  the  labors  of  his  pen, 
which  was  never  idle.  His  style  was  always  graceful  and 
dignified,  and  he  knew  how  to  express  his  ideas  in  the 
fewest  words  and  in  the  simplest  language.  Incredible  as 
it  may  seem,  he  wrote  several  thousand  reviews  of  im- 
portant works,  prepared  constantly  new  editions  of  his 
own  treatises,  and  for  nearly  half  a  century  kept  a  diary 
of  the  things  and  events  which  transpired  around  him. 
His  poems,  of  which  a  copy  has  long  been  in  my  library, 
passed  through  thirty  editions,  of  which  one  was  in  Latin, 
one  in  English,  one  in  Italian,  and  eight  in  French.  His 
biographer  tells  us  that  when  Schiller  left  Stuttgart  he 
carried  with  him  only  two  works,  Shakespeare  and  Haller. 
Haller  was  a  born  poet ;  for  he  wrote  poetry  when  he  was 
a  mere  youth,  his  first  efforts  being  translations  of  Ovid, 
Horace,  and  Virgil,  followed  by  imitations  of  Lohenstein, 
and  of  the  Psalms  of  David.     His  poetical  effusions  are 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  217 

pervaded  by  a  religious  tone,  which  shows  that  he  was 
a  firm  believer,  not  only  in  the  existence  of  God,  but 
in  the  fundamental  truths  of  Christianity,  as  understood 
and  practised  in  his  day.  His  piety  is  beautifully  shown 
in  his  IvCtters  on  the  Truths  of  Christianity,  a  small  vol- 
ume addressed  to  his  daughter.  His  library  consisted  of 
upwards  of  twelve  thousand  volumes,  and  comprised  the 
choicest  works  in  the  various  languages  of  Europe.  Hum- 
boldt, no  mean  authority,  pronounced  him  the  greatest 
naturalist  of  his  day. 

Haller  was  the  founder  of  modern  physiolog>%  as  Ves- 
alius,  two  hundred  years  before,  had  been  the  founder  of 
modern  anatomy.  Both  of  these  great  men  found  these 
branches  of  study  a  mass  of  jargon,  unworthy  of  the  name 
of  science,  and  erected  them  upon  a  solid  and  substan- 
tial basis.  Vesalius  was  the  first  to  dissect  the  human 
subject  and  to  teach  anatomy  practically  ;  Haller  the 
first  to  place  physiology  upon  an  experimental  footing. 
Both  rendered  immense  service  to  the  interests  of  science, 
and  infused  into  the  minds  of  their  pupils  the  fire  of  their 
genius.  Haller  studied  the  higher  mathematics  under  the 
illustrious  Bernouilli,  and  medicine  under  the  great  mas- 
ters of  his  time — anatomy  under  Winslow  and  Albinus ; 
botany  under  Jussieu ;  and  theoretical  and  practical  medi- 
cine under  the  immortal  Boerhaave.  He  had  not  been 
long  in  the  profession  before  he  discovered  the  irritability 
of  the  muscles,  traced  the  development  of  the  heart  and 
blood  in  the  embryo,  and  entered  upon  that  course  of 
experimental  physiolog}'  which  has  left  its  impress  upon 
succeeding  ages.  His  labors  were  no  child's  play;  he 
worked  earnestly,  early  and  late,  in  season  and  out  of 
season.  In  botany  he  wrote  an  elaborate  treatise,  con- 
taining descriptions,  with  drawings,  of  two  thousand  four 
hundred  and  eighty-six  Swiss  plants,  and  contributed 
several  thousand  articles  to  the  Gottingen  Cyclopedia. 
Independent  in  worldly  matters,  he  practised  medicine 
1—28 


2i8  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

only  for  the  first  few  years  after  his  return  from  his 
foreign  travels,  and  then  abandoned  himself  to  study  and 
the  observation  of  nature.  At  Berne  he  established  an 
anatomical  theatre,  and  instructed  small  classes  of  stu- 
dents. At  the  age  of  twenty-seven  he  was  elected  to  the 
professorship  of  Medicine  and  Botany  in  the  University  of 
Gottingen,  a  chair  which  he  occupied  for  seventeen  years, 
attracting  pupils  from  all  parts  of  Europe,  and  imparting 
to  that  school  a  popularity  never  attained  before  or  since. 
During  his  residence  in  that  city  he  was  treated  with 
princely  consideration.  Francis  I.,  Emperor  of  Germany, 
raised  him  to  the  rank  of  nobility ;  and  Count  Orloff,  of 
Russia,  used  all  his  influence  to  entice  the  great  man 
to  St.  Petersburg.  On  his  retirement  from  Gottingen 
he  settled  permanently  at  Berne,  where,  in  the  midst  of 
learned  friends,  the  greetings  of  illustrious  men  of  science, 
and  light  but  genial  labors,  he  died  near  the  close  of  the 
sixty-ninth  year  of  his  age,  regretted  by  tlie  world,  and 
mourned  by  Switzerland  and  Germany.  On  the  12th  of 
December,  1877,  I^erne  celebrated  in  a  manner  worthy 
of  her  citizens  the  hundredth  anniversary  of  his  death. 
Deputations  from  all  the  Swiss  schools  and  from  a  num- 
ber of  the  German,  French,  and  Italian  medical  schools 
and  medical  societies,  as  well  as  many  illustrious  men  of 
science  and  distinguished  statesmen,  attended  on  the  occa- 
sion, the  interest  of  which  was  still  further  enhanced  by 
the  presence  of  Haller's  descendants.  An  elaborate  ad- 
dress, commemorative  of  the  life  and  character  of  Haller, 
was  delivered  by  Professor  Konig. 

We  left  Venice  near  midnight  on  the  ist  of  July,  in  the 
train  for  Vienna.  We  were  fortunate  enough  to  have  a 
coup6  allotted  to  ourselves,  so  that  we  had  an  abundance 
of  room  ;  but  the  night  was  cold  and  wet,  and  the  conse- 
quence was  that  we  were  more  or  less  uncomfortable,  de- 
spite the  liberal  use  of  our  wrappings.  At  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning  we  found  ourselves  at  the  village  of  Nabresina, 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  219 

where,  after  partaking  of  a  warm  breakfast,  we  became 
somewhat  thawed,  so  as  to  be  in  a  better  condition  to 
enjoy  the  remainder  of  our  journey,  which  embraced  some 
of  the  most  glorious  views  upon  which  it  is  possible  for  the 
eye  to  rest.  The  road  across  the  Alps  from  the  foot  of 
Lake  Lucerne  to  St.  Gothard,  full  as  it  is  of  the  grandest 
and  wildest  scener\^,  presented  few  objects  of  greater  sub- 
limity than  the  pass  over  the  Tyrolese  Mountains  by  the 
Semmering  Railway,  two  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of 
the  sea.  After  travelling  some  distance  the  road  formed  a 
series  of  curves  and  semicircles  flanked  by  deep  valleys, 
which  it  made  one  almost  shudder  to  behold.  The  train 
as  it  swept  along  resembled  a  huge  anaconda,  whiffing 
and  blowing  as  if  it  were  ill  at  ease  with  itself  and  the 
majestic  mountains  over  which  it  was  drawn  at  the  rate  of 
thirty  miles  an  hour.  Cold  as  the  day  was,  with  only  now 
and  then  a  gleam  of  sunshine,  the  ride  was  one  of  unal- 
loyed enjoyment ;  and  although  we  were  not  a  little  fa- 
tigued, we  were  sorry  when  we  found,  late  in  the  after- 
noon, that  we  were  rapidly  approaching  the  environs  of 
Vienna.  A  short  ride  from  the  depot  soon  brought  us  to 
one  of  the  principal  hotels,  where  we  passed  the  next  four 
days,  visiting  meanwhile  some  of  the  more  important  ob- 
jects of  interest,  more  especially  the  Imperial  Royal  Pic- 
ture Gallery,  the  Lichtenstein  Gallery,  and  the  Church  of 
the  Capucines,  in  the  vault  of  which  are  contained  the 
bodies  of  upwards  of  seventy  emperors  and  empresses. 
Among  the  latest  contributions  to  this  curious  receptacle 
of  royalty  was  the  sarcophagus  of  Maximilian,  who  played 
for  a  short  time  so  conspicuous  a  part  in  Mexican  poli- 
tics, and  whose  career  met  with  so  sad  a  termination. 
The  fresh  flowers  upon  the  sarcophagus  showed  that 
the  young  prince  had  left  behind  him  tender  and  loving 
hearts.  What  the  destiny  of  Mexico  might  have  been  if 
Maximilian  had  been  permitted  to  remain  pennanently 
upon  its  throne  is  of  course  a  matter  solely  of  conjecture ; 


220  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

but  it  was  generally,  and  I  believe  correctly,  thoiigbt  that 
it  would  have  been  greatly  improved.  Judging  from  the 
wily  and  treacherous  character  of  its  people,  it  was  easy  to 
foresee  that  he  would  sooner  or  later  be  hurled  from  his 
seat,  and  that  he  would  never  leave  the  country  alive. 
Of  all  this  I  was  myself  at  the  time  thoroughly  convinced, 
and  often  so  expressed  myself  In  a  corner  in  this  narrow 
house,  in  an  unadorned  cofi&n,  lies,  at  the  special  request 
of  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa,  the  body  of  the  Countess 
Fuchs,  her  early  and  faithful  instructress.  It  is  eminently 
creditable  to  this  great  woman  that  she  was  capable  of  ap- 
preciating merit  wherever  she  found  it.  The  remains  of 
her  physician,  the  famous  Van  Swieten,  w^hose  celebrated 
Commentaries  may  still  be  read  with  profit,  and  to  whom 
Austria  is  indebted  for  her  system  of  universal  education, 
lie  in  the  vault  of  the  Church  of  the  Augustines,  near  the 
tombs  of  the  Emperor  Leopold  II.  and  of  the  illustrious 
General  Daun. 

Few  strangers  visit  Vienna  without  taking  a  walk  to  the 
Karnthnerstrasse  to  look  at  the  famous  post  leaning  against 
the  wall  of  the  house  No.  1079,  in  what  is  now  the  very 
heart  of  the  city.  This  post  is  said  to  be  the  trunk  of  a 
tree  which  once  belonged  to  the  Wienerwald,  or  ancient 
forest,  and  is  an  object  of  uncommon  historical  interest 
from  the  fact  that  it  is  bound  round  with  iron  hoops  to 
prevent  it  from  falling,  and  so  completely  riddled  with 
nails  that  there  is  no  room  for  any  more.  For  centuries, 
it  seems,  it  was  the  custom  of  the  apprentices  of  Vienna, 
after  serving  out  their  time,  to  perfect  their  knowledge  of 
their  trades  by  visiting  foreign  countries.  Before  setting 
out  on  their  journeys  each  made  it  his  business  to  drive  a 
nail  into  this  post,  in  order  to  propitiate  the  Fates,  or,  in 
other  words,  to  secure  good  luck. 

The  morning  after  our  arrival  in  the  Austrian  capital  I 
made  my  way  to  the  Allgemeines  Krankenhaus,  upwards 
of  a  mile  and  a  half  from  our  lodgings,  to  shake  hands 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  221 

witli  the  renowned  pathological  anatomist,  Professor  Karl 
Rokitansky,  a  man  of  world-wide  reputation.  We  had 
previously  interchanged  letters,  and  on  handing  him  my 
card  he  extended  to  me  a  cordial  welcome.  At  the  mo- 
ment of  my  entrance  into  his  workshop,  for  such  it  was, 
he  was  surrounded  by  his  pupils,  engaged  in  the  dissection 
of  the  body  of  a  man  who  had  been  murdered  the  previous 
night.  After  the  examination  was  completed  he  washed 
his  hands  and  showed  me  his  collection  of  anatomical 
preparations,  one  of  the  richest  of  the  kind  in  the  world, 
and  the  product  solely  of  his  own  patient  and  protracted 
labors.  As  Professor  of  Pathological  Anatomy,  and  Cura- 
tor of  the  Imperial  Pathological  IMuseum,  it  is  his  duty  to 
examine  the  bodies  of  all  persons  dying  in  this  great  hos- 
pital, and  to  keep  a  full  record  of  the  results.  In  addition 
to  this  vast  work,  he  is  obliged,  by  virtue  of  his  office  of 
coroner's  physician,  as  it  would  be  called  in  this  country, 
to  examine  the  bodies  of  all  persons  found  dead  under  sus- 
picious circumstances  in  the  city,  and  to  report  the  results 
to  the  public  prosecutor.  Rokitansky  has  been  a  liberal 
contributor  to  the  periodical  press ;  but  his  principal  pro- 
duction is  his  ]\Ianual  of  Pathological  Anatomy,  issued,  in 
five  volumes,  between  the  years  1842  and  1846,  the  first 
having  appeared  last.  This  work,  which  embodies  the 
results  of  the  dissection  of  upwards  of  thirty  thousand 
cadavers,  and  upon  which  the  posthumous  fame  of  this 
great  man  will  mainly  rest,  was  translated  soon  afterwards 
by  the  Sydenham  Society  of  London,  and  republished  in 
this  country,  where,  as  well  as  abroad,  it  has  enjoyed  an 
extensive  circulation.  How  many  cadavers  he  has  exam- 
ined since  the  first  appearance  of  this  work  I  am  unable 
to  say ;  but  if  his  dissections  have  been  anything  in  the 
ratio  that  they  were  before,  it  is  reasonable  to  conclude 
that  they  amount  to  fifty  thousand,  a  number  probably 
thirty  or  forty  times  greater  than  were  ever  made  by 
any  other  anatomist.     Such  an  amount  of  labor  implies 


222  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

vast  industry,  and  I  was  therefore  not  surprised  to  learn 
from  Rokitansky's  own  lips  that  he  is  an  early  riser,  and  a 
persistent,  systematic  worker.  Notwithstanding  this,  he 
finds  leisure  to  frequent  the  opera  and  the  concert,  and  to 
give  social  entertainments  at  his  own  house,  especially 
musical  soirees^  being  very  fond  of  music  and  a  good 
performer  upon  the  flute. 

At  the  time  of  my  visit  Rokitansky  was  sixty-four  years 
of  age,  having  been  born  in  1804.  He  is  a  native  of 
Koniggratz,  in  Bohemia,  and  took  his  medical  degree  at 
Vienna  in  1828.  After  having  served  for  several  years  as 
assistant  in  this  institution,  he  was  appointed  in  1834 
Professor  of  Pathological  Anatomy ;  in  1849,  Dean  of  the 
Medical  Faculty  ;  and  in  1850,  Rector  of  the  University  of 
Vienna.  He  is  one  of  the  court  physicians  ;  and  since  my 
visit,  in  1868,  he  has  been  elected  a  Councillor  of  State 
and  a  member  of  the  Austrian  Parliament.  A  few  years 
ago  he  retired  from  the  University  as  a  public  teacher.  In 
stature  Rokitansky  is  six  feet  high,  well  proportioned,  with 
a  good  forehead,  and  a  face  beaming  with  intelligence  and 
benevolence.  He  is  a  slow  talker,  and  as  a  lecturer  not 
particularly  attractive.  As  a  writer,  many  of  the  passages 
in  his  works  are  so  obscure  as  to  render  it  diflicult  to  grasp 
their  meaning ;  and  the  translation  of  his  IManual  of  Patho- 
logical Anatomy  must  therefore  have  been  a  laborious 
task.  In  conversing  with  him  in  German  I  noticed  that 
he  constantly  used  the  word  "bissel"  for  "wenig,"  an 
Austrian  provincialism.     His  German  was  a  broad  brogue. 

Rokitansky  has  done  for  Austria  what  the  lamented 
Bichat  did  for  France.  He  laid  the  foundation,  broad  and 
deep,  of  pathological  anatomy  for  its  medical  profession, 
and  diffused  a  taste  for  its  cultivation,  the  happy  effects  of 
which  have  been  felt  in  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  civ- 
ilized world.  His  Manual  is  a  vast  storehouse  of  precious 
knowledge,  although  it  is  no  longer  used  as  a  text-book, 
owing  mainly  to  the  fact  that  it  is  defective  in  microscop- 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,  M.  D.  223 

ical  details,  which  now  figure  so  largely  in  all  productions 
of  this  kind. 

The  Vienna  School  of  Surger}'  has  long  been  celebrated 
for  its  great  men,  Vincent  Kern,  who  for  many  years  occu- 
pied the  chair  of  Surgery  in  its  University,  and  was  widely 
known  as  an  able  teacher  and  a  successful  practitioner,  was 
particularly  distinguished  as  a  lithotomist,  and  was  one  of 
the  first  to  call  attention  to  the  use  of  cold  water  in  the 
treatment  of  gunshot  wounds.  He  greatly  simplified  sur- 
gical dressings,  and  was  the  author  of  several  monographs 
on  medical  and  surgical  subjects.  George  Joseph  Beer,  a 
contemporary-  of  Kern,  may  be  regarded  as  the  father  of 
scientific  ophthalmolog}'.  He  contributed  numerous  papers 
upon  the  subject,  and  enjoyed  for  more  than  a  third  of  a 
century  an  unrivalled  reputation  as  an  oculist.  His  prin- 
cipal work  was  a  treatise,  in  two  volumes,  entitled  Lehre 
von  den  Augenkrankheiten,  issued  in  1818.  A  synopsis 
of  this  work  was  published  soon  afterwards  by  the  late  Dr. 
George  Frick,  of  Baltimore.  The  fame  of  the  chair  of 
Surgery  in  the  University  of  Vienna  was  long  upheld  by 
the  labors  and  genius  of  Rust,  a  dexterous  operator,  an 
excellent  pathologist,  and  an  erudite  writer.  He  was 
distinguished  for  his  advocacy  of  the  actual  cautery  in 
the  treatment  of  chronic  diseases  of  the  joints.  Dr.  Franz 
Schuh,  a  celebrated  surgeon  and  teacher,  and  the  author 
of  an  admirable  work  entitled  Pathologic  und  Therapie 
der  Pseudoplasmen,  was  the  first  to  recognize  epithe- 
lioma as  a  distinct  form  of  carcinoma.  He  died  in  1865, 
and  was  succeeded  by  the  present  incumbent  in  the  Uni- 
versity, Professor  Billroth,  a  man  who  has  achieved  a 
world-wide  reputation,  although  he  is  still  comparatively 
young.  A  pupil  of  Von  Langenbeck  of  Berlin,  Bill- 
roth was  for  some  years  Professor  of  Surgery  at  Zurich, 
whence,  upon  the  death  of  Schuh,  he  was  called  to  Vienna, 
where  I  met  him  in  1868.  Somewhat  above  the  medium 
height,  he  has  an  immense  frame,  with  a  marked  inclina- 


224  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

tion  to  stoutness,  large  head,  and  a  good,  open,  frank,  and 
intelligent  face,  with  dark  hair  and  eyes.  As  a  lecturer 
his  style  is  conversational  rather  than  forcible ;  his  voice 
and  manner  are  agreeable,  and  he  keeps  thoroughly  aroused 
the  attention  of  his  class.  The  second  day  after  my  arrival 
at  Vienna  I  heard  him  deliver  an  admirable  discourse  upon 
lymphatic  tumors,  illustrated  by  microscopical  drawings 
and  wet  preparations,  and  with  frequent  references  to  the 
blackboard,  he  being,  as  is  well  known,  a  ready  draughts- 
man. As  an  operator  he  is  fearless  and  bold  almost  to  the 
verge  of  rashness.  The  principal  operation  which  I  saw  him 
perform  was  excision  of  a  carcinomatous  rectum — a  tedious 
procedure,  attended  v/ith  great  loss  of  blood,  the  patient, 
an  elderly  man,  being  under  the  influence  of  chloroform. 
Upon  asking  him  the  following  morning  how  his  patient 
was,  he  replied,  with  a  significant  shrug  of  the  shoulder, 
"He  is  moribund,"  and  passed  on.  Billroth  has  lately 
twice  exsected  the  larynx,  the  patient  in  one  of  the  cases 
surviving  several  months  in  comparative  comfort  with 
the  aid  of  an  artificial  substitute.  What  he  may  do  in 
the  way  of  heroic  surgery  it  would  be  difficult  to  foretell. 
Possibly  his  next  feat  may  be  the  extirpation  of  the  liver 
or  of  the  stomach !  Billroth  is  a  good  liver,  fond  of 
society,  a  composer,  and  a  superior  pianist ;  in  a  word, 
a  remarkable  person,  such  as  is  rarely  found  in  any  pro- 
fession. In  this  country  he  is  known  principally  by  his 
work  on  Surgical  Patholog}-  and  Therapeutics,  translated 
by  Dr.  Charles  E.  Hackley,  of  New  York,  and  by  his 
achievements  as  a  bold,  dashing  operator, 

Billroth' s  lecture-room  is  always  well  filled  with  atten- 
tive pupils,  a  circumstance  which  is  in  striking  contrast 
with  the  slim  attendance  at  Dumreicher's  clinics  in  another 
part  of  this  immense  hospital.  In  looking  at  Dumreicher, 
and  following  him  through  his  wards,  one  is  not  slow  in 
discovering  the  reason  of  this  difference  in  the  popularity 
of  the  two  men,     Dumreicher,  as  his  name  implies,  is  a 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  225 

dull,  drowsy  sort  of  a  man,  an  old  fogy,  without  energy  or 
life,  and  without  the  faculty  of  interesting  his  pupils. 
Billroth,  on  the  contrar}',  is  full  of  soul,  always  busy,  in- 
structive, and  full  of  resources  under  the  most  trying  diffi- 
culties ;  a  live  man,  a  great  pathologist,  a  good  talker,  and 
a  great  operator.  Arldt,  the  ophthalmologist,  a  tall,  slen- 
der man,  impressed  me  very  favorably  ;  he  was  surrounded 
by  a  group  of  interested  students,  and  evidently  knows 
what  he  is  about.  Hebra,  the  dermatologist,  had  hardly 
half  a  dozen  attendants  ;  he  is  a  short,  thick-set  man,  with 
dirty  fingers  and  a  dress  a  good  deal  the  worse  for  wear ; 
in  a  word,  he  is  anything  but  neat  in  his  person ;  and 
during  the  hour  I  spent  in  his  ward  I  did  not  become  at 
all  pleasantly  impressed  by  his  manner  or  his  appearance. 
Of  his  skill  as  a  diagnostician  ever^'body  must  be  convinced, 
seeing  how"  great  is  his  experience  ;  but,  from  what  I  have 
seen  of  his  writings,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  he 
has  done  more  than  any  living  authority  to  confuse  the 
study  of  skin  diseases.  His  treatment,  moreover,  of  many 
of  those  affections  seems  to  me  to  be  too  purely  local,  or, 
in  other  words,  not  sufficiently  addressed  to  the  constitu- 
tion, upon  the  derangement  of  which  they  so  often  de- 
pend. 

An  opportunity  was  afforded  me  during  my  short  stay  at 
Vienna  of  renewing  my  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Neudorfer, 
Surgeon-in-Chief  of  the  Austrian  army  in  Mexico.  I  had 
met  him  a  year  or  so  previously  in  Philadelphia,  and  had 
it  in  my  power  to  show  him  some  attention,  which  he 
kindly  reciprocated  on  this  occasion.  I  found  him  in  a 
small  room  in  the  suburbs  of  the  town,  busily  engaged 
upon  his  work  on  Military  Surgery',  embracing  an  account 
of  the  results  of  his  observations  in  Mexico,  one  volume  of 
which  had  already  appeared.  I  called  at  the  residence 
of  Professor  Von  Pitha,  joint  editor  with  Billroth  of  the 
Handbuch  der  Allgemeinen  und  Speciellen  Chirurgie,  a 
g^eat  work  still  in  course  of  publication,  but  found  to  my 
I — 29 


226  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

regret  that  lie  had  gone  to  some  watering-place  in  search 
of  health  and  recreation. 

The  physicians  and  obstetricians  of  Vienna  rank  among 
the  most  illustrious  medical  men  of  the  past  and  present 
generation.  The  names  of  Skoda,  Oppoltzer,  Tiirck, 
Czermak,  Braun,  Sigmund,  and  many  others  are  known 
everywhere  in  association  either  with  important  discoveries 
or  with  the  advances  of  scientific  and  practical  medicine. 
Hyrtl  is  widely  recognized  as  a  g^eat  anatomist.  His 
celebrated  museum,  the  work  of  a  lifetime,  and  now  in 
the  possession  by  purchase  of  the  College  of  Physicians 
of  Philadelphia,  abounds  in  specimens  of  the  choicest 
character,  displaying  an  amount  of  labor  and  patience  in 
their  preparation  of  an  almost  miraculous  nature.  The 
dissections  of  the  internal  ear  alone  must  have  cost  him 
years  of  toil.  His  treatise  on  Surgical  Anatomy,  one  of  his 
later  productions,  is  highly  appreciated  for  its  sterling  ex- 
cellence. It  is  by  the  exertions  and  genius  of  such  men 
that  the  University  of  Vienna  has  achieved  a  reputation 
surpassed  by  no  medical  school  in  the  world. 

My  recollection  of  the  Austrian  capital  will  always  be 
green  and  pleasant ;  for,  although  it  was  not  in  my  power 
to  accept  any  hospitalities,  I  was  brought  into  contact  with 
men  with  whose  reputation  and  deeds  I  had  long  been 
familiar,  and  whom,  therefore,  I  was  glad  to  see.  Several 
years  prior  to  my  visit  the  Royal  Medical  Society  of  Vienna 
had  done  me  the  honor  to  elect  me  an  honorary  member. 
A  notice  of  my  treatise  on  Pathological  Anatomy  had 
preceded  me. 

The  General  Hospital  is  an  immense  edifice,  founded  by 
the  Emperor  Joseph  II.,  arranged  in  quadrangular  form, 
supplied  with  all  the  means  and  appliances  for  efficient  clin- 
ical teaching,  and  capable  of  accommodating  more  than 
three  thousand  patients.  The  number  of  admissions  an- 
nually amounts  to  nearly  thirty-five  thousand,  embracing, 
of  course,   all  kinds  of  diseases  and  accidents  to  which 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  227 

flesh  is  heir.  Such  an  enormous  field,  properly  cultivated, 
cannot  fail  to  produce  useful  results  in  developing  great 
practitioners  of  the  healing  art,  and  in  throwing  vast  light 
upon  pathology  and  therapeutics.  Connected  with  this 
establishment,  indeed  forming  a  part  of  it,  is  the  celebrated 
Lying-in  Hospital,  one  of  the  largest  of  the  kind  in  the 
world,  and  one  which  has  educated  many  of  the  ablest  and 
most  distinguished  obstetricians  and  g}m8ecologists  of  the 
present  century.  The  number  of  women  and  children 
annually  admitted  is  enonnous.  Vienna  is  famous  for  its 
illegitimate  births ;  and  one,  if  not  the  principal,  reason 
of  this  is  the  fact  that  no  questions  are  asked  of  any  of  the 
women  upon  their  entrance  into  the  institution.  They 
may  enter  veiled  or  masked,  and  even  their  names  need  not 
be  known,  unless  they  are  in  danger  of  dying,  when  their 
names  are  inclosed  in  a  sealed  envelope  to  be  opened  only 
by  their  nearest  relatives.  No  persons,  except  the  phj'si- 
cian  and  nurse,  are  admitted  to  them,  and  when  their  con- 
finement is  over  they  are  discharged  in  the  usual  manner, 
leaving  the  child  behind  them  to  be  bound  out  at  a  certain 
age,  if  not  called  for.  Such  conduct  on  the  part  of  the 
authorities  is,  in  my  opinion,  anything  but  praiseworthy, 
inasmuch  as  it  affords  a  powerful  incentive  to  the  grossest 
immoralit>^  All  that  a  bad  woman  has  to  do,  when  she 
gives  way  to  her  passion,  is  to  conceal  her  shame  in  such 
an  asylum,  and  to  repeat  the  offence  at  the  next  opportu- 
nity, satisfied  that  her  family,  her  friends,  and  the  public 
will  remain  alike  ignorant  of  her  conduct.  It  is  said  that 
the  principal  purpose  of  this  secrecy  is  to  prevent  infanti- 
cide, which  would  otherwise  be  of  very  frequent  occur- 
rence ! 

The  Military  Hospital  at  Vienna  is  a  large,  old  build- 
ing, capable  of  accommodating  several  hundred  patients. 
It  is  a  government  institution,  devoted  exclusively  to  the 
treatment  of  wounded  soldiers,  and  affords  a  fine  field 
for  the  study  of  military  surgery,  especially  in  times  of 


228  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

war.  Pitha  and  Neudorfer  have  each  a  service  in  this 
hospital. 

We  left  Vienna,  July  7th,  for  Dresden,  crossing  the 
Danube,  a  shallow,  quiet  river,  a  little  wider  than  the 
Schuylkill  at  Philadelphia.  The  countr>'  for  many  miles 
along  the  route  was  flat  and  highly  cultivated,  and  ever>'- 
where  studded  with  fields  of  wheat,  rye,  and  oats.  The 
people  were  busily  engaged  in  harvesting,  and  we  noticed 
that  many  of  the  laborers  were  women,  reminding  us  of 
what  was  formerly  so  common  in  harvest  time  in  the  Ger- 
man settlements  of  Pennsylvania.  The  cradle  and  the 
sickle  were  the  only  agricultural  implements  employed. 
Of  reaping-machines  we  saw  no  sign.  A  considerable  por- 
tion of  our  road  passed  through  Moravia  and  Bohemia, 
and  as  the  train  whirled  along,  generally  at  a  rapid  pace, 
we  were  struck  with  the  paucity  of  horses  and  cattle.  The 
houses  for  the  most  part  had  a  very  common  appearance, 
and  there  were  no  barns  such  as  one  is  accustomed 
to  see  in  Pennsylvania.  At  eleven  o'clock  at  night 
we  reached  Aussig,  a  small  village  on  the  Elbe,  and  on 
the  next  morning  at  half  past  six  we  embarked  on  a  miser- 
able little  steamer  for  Dresden.  The  Elbe,  a  small  river, 
with  a  gentle  current,  is  fringed  with  high  mountains, 
many  of  which  are  very  prominent  and  imposing.  We 
passed  many  towns  and  villages,  some  castles,  and  some 
fine  private  residences,  especially  as  we  neared  Dresden. 
The  railway  from  Prague,  which  we  passed  early  in  the 
evening,  runs  along  the  left  bank  of  the  river.  We  were 
glad  when,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  we  reached 
our  destination,  for  despite  our  wraps  we  suffered  much 
from  cold,  as  the  air  was  ver>'  damp,  and  the  sun  did  not 
show  itself  during  any  part  of  the  day. 

Dresden,  apart  from  its  great  beauty,  its  elegant  society, 
its  china  manufactories,  its  opera-house,  its  art  galleries, 
and  its  museums,  presents  no  objects  of  special  interest 
to  the  medical  man.     There  is  no  medical  school,  and  the 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  229 

hospital  I  did  not  visit.  The  citizens,  like  those  of  Vienna, 
indulge  much  in  beer-drinking,  and  for  this  purpose  and 
for  social  intercourse  they  generally,  on  a  pleasant  after- 
noon, assemble  in  crowds  at  one  or  more  fashionable  coffee- 
houses, where  many  of  them  often  remain  for  hours  to- 
gether in  the  open  air  listening  to  music  and  talking  over 
the  news  of  the  day.  What  interested  me  most  in  this 
city  was  the  Armor>' ,  or  Military  Museum,  containing  the 
most  extensive  collection  in  the  world  of  all  kinds  of 
weapons,  accoutrements,  armor,  trappings,  and  relics  of 
ancient  knights  and  distinguished  warriors.  In  looking 
at  the  display  of  pistols  one  is  forcibly  impressed  with  the 
conviction  that  Colt  must  have  visited  the  armory  and  bor- 
rowed from  it  the  idea  of  his  celebrated  revolver,  a  weapon 
in  use  in  Europe  nearly  two  hundred  years  previously. 
With  the  exception  of  the  lock,  there  is  not  the  slightest 
difference  between  the  foreign  and  the  American  revolver — 
another  proof  that  there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun. 
The  knights  in  armor,  seated  upon  their  fiery  steeds  with 
lance  in  hand,  must  have  been  fierce-looking  fellows.  In 
the  same  room  are  to  be  seen  the  coronation  robes  of 
Augustus  II.,  King  of  Poland,  a  man  of  gigantic  strength, 
with  his  cuirass,  weighing  one  hundred  pounds,  and  his 
iron  cap  of  twenty-five  pounds,  along  with  the  horse- 
shoe which  he  broke  with  his  fingers.  One  does  not  forget 
to  visit  the  Schloss,  or  royal  palace,  to  examine  its  numer- 
ous works  of  art,  its  vast  collection  of  jewels,  which  in  one 
room  alone  amount  in  value,  it  is  said,  to  fifteen  millions 
of  dollars,  and  the  crowns,  sceptres,  and  diamonds  worn  by 
departed  sovereigns.  A  lover  of  the  sublime  and  beautiful 
in  art  might  profitably  spend  at  least  three  months  in 
studying  the  objects  of  interest  that  wealth  and  taste  have 
accumulated  in  this  little  Saxon  city.  Although  the  price 
of  living  is  by  no  means  cheap,  yet  such  are  the  varied 
attractions  of  the  place,  in  a  social,  educational,  and 
aesthetic  point  of  view,  that  a  number  of  American  fami- 


230  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

lies  have  for  many  years  past  made  it  their  permanent 
home. 

The  country  between  Dresden  and  Berlin  is  as  flat  as 
a  pancake.  The  soil  is  very  sandy,  and  the  general  aspect 
is  such  as  to  remind  one  forcibly  of  the  Atlantic  borders 
of  New  Jersey.  Here  and  there  we  noticed  a  strip  of 
woodland,  covered  chiefly  with  pine  trees  and  small  oaks. 
Wheat,  rye,  and  oats  were  the  principal  field  products. 
Potatoes  were  growing  in  abundance,  and  in  a  few  fields 
there  was  evidence  of  an  effort  to  raise  corn,  which,  how- 
ever, was  ver>'  diminutive.  Why  the  people  do  not  culti- 
vate watermelons  and  cantaloupes  is  a  mystery,  unless  it 
is  explained  by  the  shortness  of  the  summer.  The  soil  is 
certainly  admirably  adapted  to  the  object.  Immediately 
beyond  Dresden  we  passed  several  small  vineyards.  Very 
few  orchards  skirt  the  road,  but  the  cherry  tree  is  of  com- 
mon occurrence,  and  the  fruit  is  said  to  be  of  superior 
quality.  The  windmill  is  seen  in  every  direction :  at  one 
place  there  were  as  many  as  seven  in  close  proximity  one 
to  another. 

Reaching  Berlin  late  in  the  afternoon,  we  took  lodgings 
at  Meinhardt's  Hotel.  Early  on  the  following  morning 
we  found  ourselves  on  the  train  for  Potsdam,  where, 
in  company  with  Dr.  and  Mrs.  James  R.  Wood,  of  New 
York,  we  spent  the  entire  day,  visiting  Charlottenhof ;  the 
palace  of  Frederick  the  Great ;  the  palace  of  Sans  Souci, 
the  beautiful  grounds  ornamented  with  fountains  and 
magnificent  shrubbery  and  orange  trees ;  the  marble  eques- 
trian statue  of  the  great  king,  a  glorious  work  of  art ;  the 
towers  of  Pfingstberg,  commanding  an  imposing  view  of 
the  river  Havel,  of  Babelsberg,  and  of  the  surrounding 
country,  with  Berlin  in  the  distance ;  the  Russian  colony, 
now  greatly  diminished  in  numbers ;  the  house,  situated 
on  a  little  island  in  an  artificial  lake,  in  which  the  father 
of  Frederick  the  Great  used  to  smoke  and  to  hold  his 
drunken  orgies ;   the  old  palace,   containing  the  writing- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  231 

table,  chairs,  and  dining-table  of  the  famous  king  ;  the 
Lutheran  church,  in  which,  in  a  marble  sarcophagus,  lie 
the  remains  of  this  extraordinary'  man ;  and,  in  short, 
ever}-thing  of  interest  to  the  inquisitive  tourist.  The  day 
was  bright  and  genial,  and  one  of  the  most  delightful  and 
enjoyable  of  our  lives.  No  traveller  should  fail  to  visit 
this  beautiful  spot,  so  full  of  historical  associations. 

Many  anecdotes  are  told  of  Frederick  the  Great.  His 
fondness  for  his  dogs  and  his  warhorse  led  him  to  make  a 
request  that  he  should  be  buried  with  them — a  request 
which  the  good  taste  of  his  friends  prevented  from  being 
carried  into  effect.  The  stor}^  of  the  windmill  has  become 
classical.  The  king,  wishing  to  extend  his  pleasure- 
grounds  near  the  palace  of  Sans  Souci,  offered  to  purchase 
it.  The  miller,  however,  was  obstinate  in  his  refusal,  and 
the  consequence  was  that  the  matter  was  carried  into  court, 
in  which  his  majesty  was  defeated.  After  the  trial  was 
over  the  king  replaced  the  old  windmill  with  a  more 
stately  one  as  a  monument  to  Prussian  justice.  The 
descendants  of  the  original  proprietor,  having  become 
financially  embarrassed,  offered  to  sell  the  propert}-,  but 
the  king,  upon  learning  the  circumstance,  relieved  their 
necessities,  saying  that  the  windmill  belonged  to  Prussian 
history. 

There  were  three  professional  men  in  Berlin  whom,  as 
their  names  had  long  been  familiar  to  me  as  household 
words,  I  was  most  anxious  to  see — Virchow,  Langenbeck, 
and  Graefe.  Accordingly,  early  in  the  morning  of  the 
second  day  after  our  arrival,  I  went  to  the  Allgemeines 
Krankenhaus  in  search  of  Virchow,  the  illustrious  patholo- 
gist and  accomplished  statesman,  a  professor  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Berlin,  and  a  member  of  the  German  Parliament. 
The  great  man,  upon  my  entrance,  was  in  the  midst  of 
his  pupils,  engaged  in  a  post-mortem  examination.  As 
my  presence  attracted  some  attention,  especially  on  the 
part  of  several   Philadelphia  students  with  whom  I  was 


232  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

personally  acquainted,  I  deemed  it  my  duty,  although  the 
moment  was  not  the  most  opportune,  to  pass  my  card  to 
the  professor,  at  the  same  time  apologizing  for  the  intru- 
sion. He  at  once  saluted  me  with  a  gracious  bow,  and, 
shaking  me  cordially  by  the  hand,  introduced  me  to  his 
pupils  and  expressed  his  gratification  at  seeing  me.  After 
a  few  minutes  spent  in  conversation,  he  resumed  his  knife 
and  completed  his  examination.  He  showed  me  his  lab- 
oratory, his  lecture-room,  and  many  of  his  more  inter- 
esting pathological  specimens,  most  of  them  prepared 
by  his  own  hands.  His  collection  of  diseased  hearts  of 
children,  the  result  of  inherited  syphilis,  is  the  largest 
in  the  world,  and  as  he  explained  specimen  after  specimen, 
he  became  not  only  enthusiastic  but  eloquent.  He  also 
showed  me  a  large  number  of  preparations  of  infantile 
syphilitic  livers,  exhibiting  the  ravages  of  a  poison  which 
has  taken  deep  root  in  the  human  family,  and  which,  if 
effectual  means  be  not  speedily  adopted  for  its  eradication, 
is  sure  eventually  to  sap  the  very  foundations  of  the  best 
society  in  all  parts  of  the  globe. 

The  laborator}',  or  work-shop  as  it  may  be  termed,  of 
Professor  Virchow  is  a  model  in  its  way,  admirably 
adapted  to  the  wants  of  the  student  for  improvement  in 
the  use  of  the  microscope  and  the  examination  of  morbid 
specimens,  which  are  passed  round  in  jars  or  on  plates  on 
a  neat  little  railway  carriage,  so  that  every  one  may  have 
a  full  opportunity  of  inspecting  them.  Microscopes  are 
provided  in  great  numbers,  and,  in  fact,  every  facility  is 
afforded  for  the  acquisition  of  knowledge.  If  the  student 
does  not  become  the  wiser  for  his  labors  it  is  his  own 
fault,  not  the  fault  of  his  teacher.  Such  a  room  with  the 
necessary  appliances  ought  to  exist  in  every  well-organized 
medical  institution  in  the  United  States.  An  abundance 
of  material  for  the  successful  study  of  pathological  anat- 
omy is  found  in  all  our  larger  cities ;  and  it  is  only  neces- 
sary that  we  should  go  to  work  and  use  it  properly  for 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  233 

the  edification  of  the  profession  and  the  advancement  of 
medical  science. 

Virchow  is  a  most  patient  and  laborious  investigator, 
and  yet  he  never  seems  to  be  in  a  hurry.  His  dissec- 
tions seldom  occupy  fewer  than  two  and  a  half  to  three 
hours  each.  Every  organ  of  the  body  is  thoroughly 
explored.  For  years  past  his  habit  has  been  to  open, 
every  Monday  morning,  a  cadaver  in  the  presence  of  his 
private  pupils  with  a  view  of  instructing  them  in  the  art 
of  conducting  autopsies — holding  the  knife,  using  the  saw, 
and  taking  notes,  the  whole  being  supplemented  by  micro- 
scopic inspections  of  the  more  important  diseased  structures. 
In  these  dissections  he  is,  if  possible,  more  patient  even 
than  Rokitansky,  his  great  Viennese  prototype.  For  ex- 
posing the  spinal  cord,  Virchow  employs  a  double  sickle- 
shaped  saw,  eight  inches  in  length — an  instrument,  I  be- 
lieve, of  his  own  designing.  A  work  from  his  pen  on 
the  subject  of  autopsies  was  lately  issued  at  Berlin.  On 
Wednesdays  and  Saturdays  he  devotes  two  hours  before  his 
class  to  the  illustration  of  pathological  anatomy. 

Virchow  is  a  thin,  slender  man,  about  the  medium 
height,  with  a  fine  forehead,  although  the  head  is  not 
large,  and  handsome  black  eyes,  concealed  by  a  pair  of 
glasses.  He  is  deliberate  in  his  movements,  a  good  talker, 
very  affable,  courteous,  and  warm-hearted — in  a  word,  a 
gentleman  of  the  higher  t}'pe.  In  his  general  appearance 
there  is  nothing  at  all  striking.  As  a  lecturer  he  did  not 
especially  impress  me.  His  voice  is  good,  and,  while  his 
deliver}'  is  graceful,  he  seemed  to  me  to  be  rather  sluggish ; 
at  all  events,  without  that  enthusiasm  which  one  might 
expect  in  so  renowned  a  teacher.  In  age,  at  my  visit  at 
Berlin  in  1868,  he  was  probably  about  fifty.  In  his  polit- 
ical feelings  he  is  thoroughly  republican,  and  it  is  said  that 
Bismarck  is  more  afraid  of  him  than  of  any  man  in 
the  German  empire.  Early  in  life,  indeed,  he  was  ban- 
ished from  Berlin  on  account  of  his  political  proclivities, 
1—30 


234 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


but  his  great  reputation  at  length  induced  the  government 
to  recall  him,  and  to  reinstate  him  in  his  former  chair. 
Virchow  is  a  hard  worker,  a  close  observer,  and  a  philoso- 
phical reasoner.  He  is  a  good  sleeper,  and  does  not  trouble 
himself  about  early  rising.  At  his  lectures,  he  is  often 
behind  time,  and  does  not  always  occupy  his  hour.  He 
is  a  voluminous  author,  and  he  may  be  regarded  as  the 
founder  of  a  new  school  of  pathology  and  pathological 
anatomy.  His  work  on  Cellular  Pathology  and  his  Lec- 
tures on  Tumors,  two  productions  abounding  in  origi- 
nal thought  and  investigation,  translated  into  different 
languages,  and  republished  in  this  country,  have  acquired 
for  him  a  world-wide  celebrity.  Whatever  it  touches  his 
pen  adorns.  He  is  a  member  of  numerous  domestic  and 
foreign  societies,  an  associate  of  the  French  Institute,  and 
a  member  of  the  German  parliament.  Europe  and  America 
acknowledge  him  as  the  first  pathologist  of  the  age. 

The  evening  before  leaving  Berlin  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  Virchow  at  his  own  table,  at  his  elegant  residence 
in  a  fashionable  part  of  the  city.  The  gentlemen  who  were 
invited  to  meet  me  were,  among  others.  Professor  Von 
Langenbeck,  Von  Graefe,  the  famous  oculist.  Bonders,  the 
celebrated  ophthalmologist  of  Utrecht,  and  Dr.  Gurlt,  Pro- 
fessor of  Surgery  in  the  University  of  Berlin.  Our  time 
was  occupied  in  agreeable  and  instructive  conversation.  At 
ten  o'clock  the  folding-doors  were  thrown  open,  and  we  sat 
down  to  a  bountiful  repast.  After  the  viands  were  pretty 
well  disposed  of,  our  host,  availing  himself  of  a  lull  in 
the  conversation,  drew  forth  a  large  volume  from  under 
the  table,  and  rising  he  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  made 
me  an  address  in  Gennan,  complimenting  me  upon  my 
labors  as  a  pathological  anatomist,  and  referring  to  the 
work,  which  happened  to  be  the  second  edition  of  my 
Elements  of  Pathological  Anatomy,  as  one  from  the  study 
of  which  he  had  derived  much  useful  instruction,  and  one 
which  he  always  consulted  with  much  pleasure.      I  need 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  235 

not  say  how  deeply  flattered  I  felt  by  this  great  honor,  so 
unexpectedly  and  so  handsomely  bestowed  upon  me  by  this 
renowned  man.  I  felt  that  I  had  not  labored  in  vain,  and 
that  the  compliment  was  more  than  an  equivalent  for  all 
the  toil  and  anxiety  which  the  work  had  cost  me. 

Of  Von  Langenbeck  I  saw  much  while  in  Berlin.  His 
kindness  to  me  was  uninterrupted,  and  was  shown  in  a  great 
variety  of  ways.  From  the  cordial  welcome  which  he  ex- 
tended to  me  I  felt  at  once  as  if  I  had  met  with  an  old  and 
well-tried  friend.  He  invited  me  to  his  house,  showed  me 
everything  about  his  hospital,  introduced  me  to  his  class, 
and  took  special  pains  to  perfonn  upon  the  dead  subject 
some  operations  in  which  he  had  acquired  unusual  distinc- 
tion. A  nej^hew  of  the  celebrated  Langenbeck  of  Got- 
tingen,  he  settled  early  in  life  at  Berlin,  where,  after  the 
death  of  Johann  Friedrich  Dieffenbach,  he  speedily  rose  to 
the  topmost  round  of  the  ladder.  As  an  operative  surgeon, 
he  enjoys  an  unrivalled  reputation  on  the  continent  of 
Europe  ;  and  it  is  questionable  whether  he  has  ever  had 
a  superior  in  this  branch  of  the  healing  art  anywhere — Du- 
puytren,  Lisfranc,  Mott,  Liston,  Syme,  and  Fergusson  not 
excepted.  His  record  is  one  of  which  any  surgeon  may 
justly  be  proud.  In  his  appearance  he  is  remarkable.  His 
forehead,  without  being  uncommonly  high,  is  well  formed, 
but  the  occipital  region,  near  what  is  supposed  to  be  the 
organ  of  philoprogenitiveness,  is  of  extraordinary  bulk,  al- 
most amounting  to  deformity.  He  is  tall  and  rather  slender, 
and  his  lower  limbs  are  disproportionately  long  ;  his  eyes 
are  blue,  and  his  features  are  expressive  of  intelligence  and 
courtly  breeding.  He  speaks  English  and  French  fluently, 
rides  in  his  carriage,  and  lives  in  elegant  style  in  the  upper 
and  newer  part  of  the  city,  a  short  distance  from  "  Unter 
den  Linden."  Like  Virchow  he  is  a  hard  worker.  During 
the  summer  session  of  the  University  he  invariably  meets 
his  private  classes  at  the  General  Hospital  at  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  before  many  of  the  respectable  citizens  of 


236  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

Berlin  have  nibbed  the  dew  off  their  eyes.  He  generally 
passes  two  hours  with  his  classes  several  times  a  week,  in- 
structing them  in  the  operations  on  the  cadaver,  either 
using  the  knife  himself,  or  seeing  that  it  is  properly  em- 
ployed by  others.  One  of  the  mornings  that  I  spent  with 
him  was  devoted  to  excisions  of  the  joints,  every  one  of 
which  he  performed  for  my  special  benefit,  pointing  out 
whatever  there  is  peculiar  in  his  methods.  His  pupils  are 
all  very  fond  of  him — a  circumstance  not  at  all  surprising 
when  we  consider  the  pains  he  takes  to  instruct  them  in 
operative  and  mechanical  surgery. 

The  name  of  Von  Langenbeck  is  associated  with  many 
of  the  most  wonderful  exploits  in  operative  surgery.  His 
resections,  of  which  he  has  performed  a  great  number,  are 
distinguished  by  their  simplicity,  by  the  superiority  of  the 
dressings  employed  in  the  after-treatment,  and  by  the  fre- 
quency with  which  they  are  followed  by  the  reproduction 
of  osseous  tissue — due  doubtless  to  the  fact  that  he  always 
saves  the  largest  possible  amount  of  periosteum.  In  visit- 
ing his  wards  he  pointed  out  to  me  three  cases  of  excision 
of  the  shoulder,  two  of  the  elbow,  one  of  the  wrist,  one 
of  the  hip,  one  of  the  knee,  and  two  of  the  ankle,  to- 
gether with  one  of  the  shaft  of  the  humerus  and  one 
of  both  bones  of  the  leg,  the  pieces  removed  being 
three  inches  and  a  half  in  length.  Of  ankle-joint  resec- 
tions he  had  had,  as  he  informed  me,  altogether  eighteen 
cases,  of  which  nine  were  traumatic,  with  one  death,  and 
nine  pathological,  of  which  one  ended  fatally  and  two  re- 
quired amputation.  In  all  such  operations,  as  well  as  in 
recent  fractures,  whether  simple  or  compound,  he  applies 
at  once  a  ver>'  thick,  immovable  plaster  of  Paris  splint, 
provided  with  fenestra  for  facilitating  drainage.  In  the 
case  of  the  knee  he  employs  a  posterior  iron  splint,  with  a 
handle  in  front  for  lifting  and  moving  the  limb — a  very 
useful  contrivance,  worthy  of  general  adoption.  At  the 
time  of  my  visit  he  had  performed,  with  good  results,  four 


SAMUEL   n.    GJ?OSS,   AI.D.  237 

amputations  of  the  thigh,  with  the  periosteum  drawn  over 
the  end  of  the  bone,  one  of  the  cases  being  under  treatment 
at  the  tim.e.  In  flap  amputations  he  uses  stitches,  but  no 
plaster  or  bandage,  and  places  the  stump  upon  a  hollow 
cushion  of  gum  elastic,  inflatable  at  pleasure,  the  dis- 
charges being  received  underneath  in  a  plate  filled  v/ith 
powdered  charcoal.  He  showed  me  a  child,  five  and  a 
half  years  old,  in  whom  he  had  successfully  closed,  two 
weeks  before,  a  large  fissure  in  the  hard  palate  by  lateral 
flaps ;  and  also  a  young  man  from  whom  he  had  removed 
a  retropharyngeal  polyp  through  the  upper  jaw,  dividing 
this  bone  through  its  ascending  process  and  immediately 
above  the  roots  of  the  teeth,  along  with  the  zygomatic 
process  of  the  temporal  bone,  an  oval  flap  of  skin  having 
previously  been  reflected  towards  the  temple.  Although 
but  little  blood  was  lost,  the  patient  looked  very  bad, 
and  his  life  was  in  imminent  jeopardy.  Langenbeck  in- 
formed me  that  he  had  performed  excision  of  the  rectum 
in  sixteen  cases,  and  in  only  one  of  these  had  life  been 
prolonged  to  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  month. 

It  struck  me  as  extraordinary  that  a  surgeon  so  judi- 
cious, experienced,  and  well-read  should  prefer  the  high 
or  suprapubic  operation  for  stone  in  the  bladder ;  and  yet 
he  informed  me  that  it  had  hitherto  been  his  favorite 
method,  as  he  had  performed  it  altogether  thirty  times. 
"Inasmuch,  however,"  he  significantly  added,  "  as  I  have 
lost  all  my  adult  patients  from  pysemia,  at  periods  varydng 
from  eight  to  twelve  weeks,  I  no  longer  resort  to  it  except  in 
children."  He  cut  a  child  eighteen  months  old  according 
to  this  vile  method,  making  an  incision  at  least  three 
inches  in  length  along  the  middle,  and  dividing  some  of 
the  fibres  of  the  straight  muscles  to  relieve  tension.  The 
bladder  was  opened  very  cautiously,  an  index  finger  was 
inserted  into  the  organ,  and  the  calculus,  which  consisted 
of  uric  acid,  one  inch  long  by  five-eighths  of  an  inch  in 
diameter,  was  extracted  with  the  scoop.     Having  introduced 


238  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

a  narrow  strip  of  muslin  into  the  wound  with  one  end  pro- 
truding, he  sewed  up  the  skin  and  sent  the  little  patient  to 
bed,  A  small  boy  who  had  been  lithotomized  by  this 
method  nearly  two  months  before  was  still  suffering  under 
an  open  wound  at  the  time  of  my  visit.  Had  he  been  sub- 
jected to  lithectasy,  or  to  the  ordinary  lateral  section,  I  ven- 
ture to  say  that  the  poor  little  fellow  would  have  been  on 
the  street  weeks  sooner.  The  reason  why  he  prefers  the 
suprapubic  method  is  that,  as  he  alleges,  it  prevents  in- 
continence of  urine  and  injury  to  the  ejaculatory  ducts — 
two  ridiculous  and  fanciful  objections  according  to  my 
own  experience  and  that  of  the  profession  generally.  He 
candidly  confessed  that  the  wound  is  always  very  long  in 
healing. 

In  conversing  with  this  great  surgeon  respecting  extir- 
pation of  the  tongue  for  the  relief  of  cancer,  he  told  me 
that  he  had  had  one  case,  that  of  a  man  sixty  years  of  age, 
in  which  he  removed  the  entire  organ,  excepting  a  little 
of  its  posterior  border,  the  patient  surviving  the  operation 
for  two  years,  during  which  he  enjoyed  excellent  health 
with  the  power  of  articulation  and  tolerable  speech.  The 
operation  included  the  division  of  the  symphysis  of  the  jaw 
and  the  removal  of  the  sublingual  and  submaxillary 
glands,  the  former  on  both  sides. 

Durinof  the  late  Franco-Prussian  war  Von  Langenbeck 
acted  as  Surgeon-in-Chief  of  the  Prussian  army,  and  added 
new  lustre  to  his  name.  Although  no  longer  young,  he  is 
a  man  of  wonderful  activity,  both  physical  and  mental. 
He  has  long  been  the  editor  of  what  is  known  as  Langen- 
beck's  Archiv  fiir  Chirurgie,  and  he  has  been  a  copious 
contributor  to  the  medical  press,  although  he  has  not  pub- 
lished, as  far  as  I  am  aware,  any  express  treatises  on  sur- 
gery. He  is  a  member  of  many  learned  societies,  both 
native  and  foreign.  Surgeon  to  the  Emperor,  and  Professor 
of  Surger}'  in  the  University  of  Berlin.  He  has  been  the 
recipient  of  numerous  decorations. 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  239 

Albrecht  von  Graefe,  whose  acquaintance  I  made  the 
second  day  after  my  arrival  at  Berlin,  but  who,  much  to 
the  regret  of  all  Germany  and  of  the  medical  profession 
generally,  died  in  July,  1870,  within  two  years  after  my 
visit,  was  one  of  the  remarkable  men  of  his  day.  As 
an  ophthalmic  surgeon  and  as  the  inventor  of  certain  oper- 
ations, now  in  common  use,  he  was  for  years  without  a 
rival  in  Europe,  attracting  patients  and  pupils  from  all 
parts  of  the  civilized  world.  Tall  and  slender,  yet  grace- 
fully built,  he  was  a  man  of  winning  manners,  amiable  in 
a  high  degree,  with  the  simplicity  of  a  child.  His  counte- 
nance had  so  mild  and  benevolent  an  expression  that  he 
was  known  in  the  streets  of  Berlin  as  the  Christus,  in  ref- 
erence to  his  resemblance  to  some  of  the  pictures  of  Christ 
by  the  older  masters.  Every  one  loved  him.  Although 
he  was  hardly  forty  years  of  age  at  the  time  of  my  inter- 
view with  him,  his  hair,  which  he  always  wore  long,  was 
already  white,  and  his  whole  appearance  indicated  that  he 
was  incessantly  overworked,  and  destined,  as  the  result  has 
only  too  clearly  shown,  to  be  short-lived.  He  had  about 
him  an  appearance  of  everlasting  unrest.  He  was  quick  in 
all  his  movements,  almost  as  nimble  as  a  cat,  and  was  never 
longer  than  a  few  minutes  in  the  same  place.  Up  early  in 
the  morning,  and  until  a  late  hour  at  night,  driving  like  a 
Jehu  through  the  rough  streets  of  Berlin,  and  performing 
daily  an  astonishing  amount  of  labor,  it  was  evident  alike 
to  friend  and  stranger  that  he  coiild  not  long  endure  such 
wear  and  tear  of  mind  and  body ;  that  sooner  or  later  he 
must  sink  under  their  effects.  Expostulation  and  reason- 
ing were  of  no  avail.  He  was  a  doomed  man.  The  only 
recreation  which  he  ever  took  was  a  brief  visit  to  Paris,  or 
to  some  watering-place,  where,  it  is  true,  he  always  ob- 
tained a  change  of  air  and  scene,  but  no  substantial  repose 
for  his  exhausted  powers.  Pulmonar}'  phthisis,  the  result 
probably  of  an  hereditary  taint,  at  length  overtook  him, 
soon  after  the  close  of  the  forty-second  year  of  his  age. 


240 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


Graefe  was  of  Polish  descent,  a  native  of  Berlin,  and  a  son 
of  Carl  Ferdinand  von  Graefe,  a  celebrated  professor  and 
practitioner,  long  a  resident  in  the  Prussian  capital,  and 
the  surgeon  who,  next  after  Valentine  IVIott,  tied  the  in- 
nominate artery.  It  is  said  that  the  son  early  in  life  dis- 
tinguished himself  by  his  literary,  mathematical,  and  sci- 
entific attainments.  In  1856  he  was  appointed  Professor 
of  Ophthalmology  in  the  University  of  his  native  city.  He 
also  gave  private  instruction,  had  a  large  eye  clinic,  and 
was  the  author  of  numerous  papers  upon  his  specialty, 
published  mainly  in  the  Archiv  fiir  Ophthalmologic,  issued 
at  first  in  his  name,  and  subsequently  with  the  assistance 
of  Arldt  and  Bonders. 

As  a  lecturer,  Graefe  was  entertaining  and  instructive. 
He  talked  rapidly,  but  connectedly,  and  constantly  re- 
ferred to  his  blackboard  and  to  his  cases  to  illustrate  his 
remarks.  His  students,  nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty  in 
number,  were  very  attentive,  many  of  them  being  engaged 
in  taking  notes.  On  the  day  preceding  my  last  visit  to  his 
clinic  I  saw  him  operate  six  times  for  strabismus,  and  ex- 
tract six  cataracts  and  one  cysticerce,  the  specimen  of 
which,  put  up  in  diluted  alcohol,  he  kindly  presented  to 
me,  and  which  is,  after  many  years,  still  in  my  possession. 
The  subject  of  this  singular  disease  was  a  married  woman, 
pregnant,  twenty-nine  years  old,  whose  sight  had  been 
gradually  diminishing  for  more  than  eighteen  months. 
The  entozoon,  without  the  aid  of  a  magnifying- glass,  was 
distinctly  visible  in  the  lower  part  of  the  posterior  cham- 
ber of  the  eye,  and  appeared  to  be  a  large  opaque  body, 
the  movements  of  which  could  be  plainly  seen  with  the  aid 
of  the  ophthalmoscope.  Latterly  it  had  occasioned  a  good 
deal  of  pain.  The  operation  was  performed  under  chloro- 
form, and  was  attended  with  great  difficulty,  as  Graefe  was 
obliged,  so  to  speak,  to  fish  for  the  entozoon.  The  case 
happened  to  be  his  one  hundred  and  twenty-first.  Profes- 
sor Donders,  the  celebrated  ophthalmologist  of  Utrecht, 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,    M.  D.  241 

who  was  present,  said  that  he  had  never  met  with  this  kind 
of  entozoon  in  Holland.  In  Prussia,  on  the  contrary, 
where  the  common  people  eat  a  great  deal  of  badly-cooked, 
almost  raw,  pork,  it  is  found  quite  frequently. 

Von  Graefe  told  me  that  he  had  extracted  nearly  three 
thousand  cataracts,  with  a  loss  only  of  from  three  to  three 
and  a  half  per  cent.  He  often  operates  on  both  eyes  in 
immediate  succession.  He  fixes  the  organ  with  a  screw 
speculum,  pinches  up  the  conjunctiva  with  a  toothed 
spring  forceps,  held  by  an  assistant,  and  performs  what  is 
known  as  the  upper  section  with  a  very  small  knife,  the 
sclerotica  being  embraced  in  the  incision ;  separates  the 
lids,  and  drawing  out  a  piece  of  the  iris,  snips  it  off  with 
the  scissors ;  removes  the  speculum  and  forceps,  lacerates 
the  capsule,  and  presses  out  the  lens  with  a  curette  ;  adjusts 
the  edges  of  the  wound  with  the  greatest  possible  care, 
all  blood  having  previously  been  removed,  not  only  from 
between  them,  but  also  from  the  anterior  chamber  of  the 
eye ;  finally,  the  eye  is  covered  with  a  layer  of  gauze  or 
cribriform  muslin,  upon  which  is  piled  a  mass  of  soft 
charpie,  confined  with  a  narrow  flannel  roller,  drawn  quite 
firmly.  At  a  late  hour  of  the  night,  generally  from  ten  to 
twelve,  the  operation  in  summer  being  usually  performed 
from  four  to  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  Graefe  invariably 
visits  his  patient  and  takes  off  the  dressings  to  see  that  all 
is  well — a  proceeding  nowhere  practised  in  this  country. 
Such  interference,  indeed,  would  be  regarded  among  us  as 
eminently  officious  or  meddlesome.  No  anodyne,  as  a 
rule,  is  administered  after  the  operation,  which,  in  his 
hands,  is  seldom  followed  by  unpleasant  nervous  symptoms. 

Graefe  was  the  inventor  of  iridectomy  for  the  relief  of 
pain  in  glaucoma  and  the  prevention  of  undue  inflamma- 
tion after  the  extraction  of  cataract.  At  first  sight  it 
seems  revolting  to  one's  sense  of  propriety  to  mutilate  so 
important  a  structure  as  the  iris  for  such  an  object,  and 
yet  the   operation  for  cataract  is   now  so  generally  per- 


243  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

formed  after  this  method  that  its  benefits  must  be  fully 
conceded.  As  an  earnest  and  successful  cultivator  of 
ophthalmolog}',  it  is  impossible  to  lay  too  much  stress 
upon  the  labors  of  this  wonderful  man.  He  found  oph- 
thalmology nothing  but  a  mass  of  blind  empiricism,  and 
at  the  end  of  twenty  years,  the  close  of  his  useful  life,  he 
left  it  a  science  and  an  art  in  advance  of  every  other  branch 
of  surgery.  Graefe  was  not  only  a  great  worker,  but  he 
possessed  the  happy  faculty  of  inspiring  his  pupils  with 
unbounded  enthusiasm,  which,  carried  away  with  them 
to  their  homes  in  different  parts  of  the  world,  has  been 
productive  of  incalculable  good. 

Dr.  Gurlt,  who  was  of  the  party  at  Virchow's,  is  a  son 
of  the  Director  of  the  celebrated  Veterinary  College  of 
Berlin,  and  the  author  of  a  valuable  work  on  fractures 
and  of  an  atlas  of  hospitals  and  ambulances.  He  is  one 
of  the  professors  of  surgery  in  the  University,  and  a  man 
of  mark,  although  in  point  of  reputation  he  is  not  equal 
to  any  one  of  the  illustrious  triumvirate  above  noticed.  He 
is  a  short,  stout  man,  of  prepossessing  appearance,  and 
a  hard  worker.  At  the  time  of  my  visit  he  was  engaged 
upon  the  composition  of  an  exhaustive  treatise  on  pyaemia. 

Donders,  whose  name  is  so  well  known  in  this  country 
in  connection  with  his  able  work  on  refraction  and  ac- 
commodation, is  a  most  genial,  pleasant  gentleman,  cor- 
dial in  his  manners,  tall,  with  fine,  expressive  features, 
black  hair  and  eyes,  and  a  hale,  robust  frame.  He  is  an 
excellent  talker,  and  speaks  German,  French,  and  English 
fluently.  He  was  said  to  be  fifty  years  of  age,  although, 
judging  from  his  looks,  one  would  not  suppose  him  to  be 
over  forty. 

Of  the  physicians  of  Berlin  the  only  one  whom  I  saw 
was  Dr.  Frerichs,  the  Professor  of  Clinical  Medicine  in 
the  University,  and  the  author  of  the  celebrated  treatise 
on  Diseases  of  the  Liver,  translated  by  Dr.  Murchison, 
and  published  under  the  auspices  of  the  Sydenham  Society 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  243 

of  lyondon.  He  is  a  man  of  medium  stature,  with  a  good, 
intelligent  face,  and  a  ready  talker,  apparently  deeply 
interested  in  his  subject.  At  his  clinic,  which  I  attended 
one  morning,  I  counted  one  hundred  and  ten  students, 
many  of  whom  were  busily  engaged  in  taking  notes.  The 
case  w^hich  the  professor  was  expounding  was  one  of  car- 
diac disease  attended  with  ascites  and  swelling  of  the  lower 
extremities.  The  examination  was  a  thorough  one,  and 
impressed  me  very  favorably  with  Frerichs  as  a  clinical 
teacher.  The  room  in  which  the  exercises  were  conducted 
was  small  and  badly  lighted,  and  the  seats  were  not  suf- 
ficiently raised  for  seeing. 

The  medical  department  of  the  University  of  Berlin 
has  forty-eight  instructors  of  different  grades,  many  of 
them  being  simply  assistants,  while  others  are  private 
teachers,  delivering  lectures  to  small  classes  of  students. 
In  point  of  fact  these  young  men  occupy  pretty  much  the 
same  rank  as  what  are  known  among  us  as  "quizzers," 
except  that  they  are  much  better  educated.  Some  of 
the  lectures  are  delivered  in  a  large  building,  formerly  the 
palace  of  Prince  Henry,  brother  of  Frederick  II.  On  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street,  in  the  grounds  belonging  to  the 
great  hospital  of  La  Charite,  is  the  pathological  museum 
in  charge  of  Virchow.  The  hospital  is  one  of  the  largest 
in  the  world,  and  annually  admits  more  than  ten  thousand 
patients.  Every  facility  is  afforded  by  the  public  authori- 
ties to  the  medical  attendants  for  the  study  of  disease  and 
injury  and  for  the  thorough  instruction  of  the  medical 
students. 

The  University  of  Berlin,  founded  in  1810,  is  one  of  the 
greatest  educational  institutions  in  Europe.  Its  corps  of 
teachers  numbers  nearly  tw^o  hundred,  and  embraces  many 
of  the  ablest  scholars  and  scientists  of  the  present  day. 
Indeed,  the  University  has  been  a  kind  of  centre  around 
which  have  revolved  during  the  present  century  many  of 
the  master-minds  of  Germanv.    In  medicine  the  world  has 


244 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


produced  no  greater  or  more  illustrious  men  than  Sclionlein, 
Jiingken,  Miiller,  Dieffenbacli,  Langenbeck,  and  Vircliow ; 
or  than  Humboldt,  Mitscherlich,  and  Ehrenberg  in  natural 
science ;  Schleiermacher  and  Neander  in  theology ;  Sav- 
igny  and  Gans  in  jurisprudence ;  Von  Raumer  and  Ranke 
in  history ;  Encke  in  astronomy ;  or  than  Fichte,  Hegel, 
and  Schelling  in  speculative  philosophy.  Art  too  has  found 
a  new  home  in  this  beautiful  city.  Many  of  the  finest  pic- 
tures in  Europe  are  to  be  seen  in  its  galleries ;  and  the 
Egyptian  Museum  contains  the  richest  collection  of  its 
kind  to  be  found  anywhere.  The  Royal  Library  em- 
braces upwards  of  five  hundred  thousand  volumes,  and  the 
University  more  than  one  hundred  thousand,  for  the 
special  use  of  the  professors  and  students.  With  such 
facilities  for  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  Berlin,  comparatively  young  as  it  is,  should, 
in  a  literary,  scientific,  artistic,  and  educational  point  of 
view,  be  one  of  the  first  cities  in  the  world.  The  more 
modern  portions  contain  many  beautiful  private  resi- 
dences, some  of  them  of  almost  palatial  grandeur.  The 
most  fashionable  street,  called  "Unter  den  Linden,"  al- 
though ver}^  broad,  and  nearly  a  mile  in  length,  presents 
few  attractions,  as  many  of  the  houses  are  old  and  dirty- 
looking,  and  most  of  the  trees  from  which  it  is  named 
have  a  withered  appearance.  With  the  exception  of 
Philadelphia,  I  know  of  no  city  that  is  worse  paved. 
Berlin  owes  much  of  its  architectural  beauty  to  the  taste 
and  genius  of  Schinkel,  Ranch,  Winckelmann,  and 
Schadow,  whose  services  are  commemorated  by  marble 
statues  placed  under  the  portico  of  the  Museum  of  An- 
tiquities. The  equestrian  statue  of  Frederick  the  Great  is 
in  "Unter  den  Linden,"  opposite  the  emperor's  palace. 
It  is  of  bronze,  is  of  colossal  size,  and  is  one  of  the  most 
magnificent  monuments  in  Europe. 

An    excursion   to   Charlottenberg,    which    few  tourists 
omit,  brings  one  to  the  small  Doric  temple,  in  a  lovely 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  245 

garden,  in  which  repose  the  remains  of  Frederick  Wil- 
liam III.,  and  of  his  beautiful  queen,  Louisa,  buried 
thirty'  years  earlier.  Their  persons  are  represented  by 
marble  figures  with  folded  hands,  lying  side  by  side  upon 
marble  sarcophagi,  the  whole  being  regarded  as  among 
the  masterpieces  of  the  celebrated  Ranch.  At  the  feet 
of  the  group  is  the  heart  of  Frederick  William  IV.,  in- 
closed in  a  marble  casket,  and  on  each  side  is  a  white 
marble  candelabrum,  that  on  the  right  representing  the 
three  Fates,  and  that  on  the  left  the  three  Muses.  A  walk 
through  the  pines  and  the  orangery  affords  additional 
interest  to  the  scene,  and  ser\'es  to  dispel  the  melancholy 
occasioned  by  the  contemplation  of  the  royal  monument. 

During  this  visit  it  was  my  pleasing  duty,  as  President 
of  the  American  IMedical  Association,  to  be  the  bearer  of 
a  letter  from  that  body  to  Professor  Christian  Gottfried 
Ehrenberg,  congratulating  him  upon  the  fiftieth  anniver- 
sary of  his  entrance  upon  his  professional  career  as  a 
physician,  and  upon  his  wonderful  achievements  as  a 
scientist  in  developing  and  extending  our  knowledge  of 
insect  life,  which  until  his  time  had  been  an  untrodden 
field.  Unfortunateh',  however,  he  was  out  of  town  for 
change  of  air  on  account  of  ill  health,  and  I  therefore 
missed  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him.  This  circumstance 
compelled  me  to  write  him  a  letter,  which  was  afterwards 
published  in  pamphlet  fonn,  along  with  another  addressed 
to  him  by  Agassiz,  Gould,  Dana,  Torrey,  and  other  distin- 
guished scientists,  and  also  with  a  short  poem  from  the 
prolific  and  facile  pen  of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes.  Pro- 
fessor Ehrenberg  acknowledged  my  own  communication  in 
a  letter  written  in  Gennan,  of  which  I  subjoin  a  translation  : 

••T  T.  Berlin,  March  xo,  1860. 

Much  honored  President:  '  -*  '        ^ 

Sir  :  The  congratulations  sent  to  me  by  my  colleagues 
in  North  America,  on  the  occasion  of  my  fiftieth  anniversary  as 
a  physician,  should  have  long  since  induced  me  to  return  you  my 


246    AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  SAMUEL  D.  GROSS,  M.D. 

particular  thanks  in  writing.  It  is  true  that  last  year  I  requested 
Mr.  Bancroft,  your  Minister  at  Berlin,  to  return  to  you  my  thanks 
preliminarily;  but  now  that  fortunately,  by  the  help  of  our  healing 
art  and  science,  I  am  again  enabled  to  write  for  a  longer  time,  I 
shall  not  omit  to  send  you  a  few  words  of  thanks  in  my  own  hand- 
writing for  your  indulgent  opinion  of  the  doings  of  my  life.  To 
you  and  your  whole  fatherland,  so  full  of  liberal  and  fresh  thoughts, 
I  wish  a  success  ever  increasing  in  strength  and  health.  May  God 
bless  all  those  who,  in  profound  research  ever  augmenting,  and  with 
a  clear,  ruling,  godly  spirit,  join  in  the  universal  effort,  and  endeavor 
to  obtain  blossoms  and  fruit,  though  they  should  be  fully  enjoyed 
only  by  coming  generations. 

With  thankful  regards,  your  most  obedient 

Dr.  C.  G.  Ehrenberg. 

S.  D.  Gross,  M.  D., 

President  of  the  American  Medical  Association. 

The  following  is  an  extract  from  my  letter :  ' '  Your 
fame  as  a  g^eat  scientific  discoverer  and  as  an  indefatigable 
student  of  nature  has  long  been  familiarly  known  in  the 
United  States,  and  has  produced  for  you  numerous  followers. 
In  your  hands  microscopic  researches  first  assumed  a  defi- 
nite and  distinct  character,  and  revealed  to  the  admiring 
gaze  of  the  world  many  new  fields  of  inquiry,  since  so 
successfully  trodden  by  others.  The  infusoria,  under  the 
influence  of  your  plastic  genius,  became  for  the  first  time 
in  our  knowledge  a  new  link  in  the  scale  of  animated 
beings,  and  a  new  source  of  wonder  and  admiration  of 
that  great  and  beneficent  Being  who  holds  the  universe  in 
the  hollow  of  His  hand,  and  who  is  the  Creator  alike  of  the 
smallest  atom  of  matter,  invisible  to  the  unassisted  eye, 
and  of  our  glorious  globe,  the  abode  of  myriads  of  human 
beings. ' ' 

At  the  time  I  sent  my  letter  to  Ehrenberg  he  was 
afflicted  with  blindness. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAIN — GOETHE — HOMBURG — THE  KURSAAL — HEIDELBERG 

THE  UNIVERSITY — THE  HIRSCHGASSE — ^THE  CASTLE — INSTRUMENTS  OF  TOR- 
TURE— CHELIUS — MAYENCE — COBLENTZ — EHRENBREITSTEIN — BONN — THE  UNI- 
VERSITY— COLOGNE — THE    CATHEDRAL — SAINT    URSULA — AIX-LA-CHAPELLE — 

CHARLEMAGNE ROTTERDAM AMSTERDAM THE     PUBLIC     HOSPITAL  —  THE 

MEDICAL  SCHOOL — BOERHAAVE — ^ANTWERP — RUBENS — BRUSSELS  —  HOSPITALS 
— VESALIUS. 

The  ride  between  Berlin  and  Frankfort-on-tlie-Main  is 
long  and  fatiguing,  occupying  from  ten  to  twelve  hours. 
As  far  as  Weimar,  which  is  passed  in  the  early  part  of  the 
day,  and  which  has  been  rendered  famous  as  the  residence 
of  Wieland,  Schiller,  Goethe,  and  Herder,  the  country  ex- 
hibits very  much  the  same  aspect  as  between  Dresden  and 
Berlin,  being  flat  and  sandy,  and  not  particularly  attrac- 
tive. Beyond  Weimar  it  becomes  gradually  more  undu- 
lating and  fertile,  and  so  continues  as  far  as  Frankfort. 
We  passed  many  fields  covered  with  yellow  wheat  nearly 
ripe  for  the  sickle,  and  as  we  approached  Frankfort  the 
sight  was  greeted  with  beautiful  meadows,  in  some  of 
which  we  occasionally  noticed  a  stork,  a  large,  dignified, 
apparently  self-possessed  bird,  with  a  long  neck  and  beak, 
well  adapted  to  get  the  better  of  a  fox  in  eating  out  of  a 
bottle.  Frankfort,  one  of  the  oldest  cities  of  Germany,  is 
celebrated  as  having  been  the  favorite  residence  of  Charle- 
magne. Here  were  crowned  its  emperors.  It  is  noted  for 
its  numerous  banking  houses,  its  great  wealth,  its  educa- 
tional institutions,  its  splendid  dwellings,  and  its  magnifi- 
cent promenades,  unequalled  in  Europe.  In  the  Juden- 
gasse,  an  old,  narrow,  dirty  street,  is  the  house  in  which 
Rothschild,  the  father  of  the  great  bankers,  lived  ;  and  not 
far   away  is  the  house  in  which  Goethe  was   born,   both 

247 


248  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

objects  of  deep  interest  to  the  tourist.  The  monument  of 
Gutenberg,  erected  in  1858,  stands  in  the  Rossmarkt,  and 
is  in  itself  worthy  of  a  visit  to  this  ancient  city.  There 
are  three  principal  figures,  the  central  one  being  that  of 
Gutenberg,  supported  on  the  right  by  Faust  and  on  the 
left  by  Schoffer.  Dannecker's  Ariadne  is  universally  ad- 
mired as  one  of  the  most  chaste  and  beautiful  productions 
of  modem  art.  A  statue  of  Goethe,  erected  by  Schwan- 
thaler,  stands  in  the  Goethe  square,  and  is  said  to  be  an 
excellent  likeness  of  the  great  author  and  philosopher. 
The  most  noted  public  building  is  the  Romer,  or  council 
house,  an  old  edifice,  celebrated  as  the  place  in  which  the 
election  of  the  German  emperors  was  held.  The  walls  of 
the  banqueting  hall  are  decorated  with  portraits  of  all  these 
worthies,  forty-six  in  number  ;  and  in  the  election  cham- 
ber, as  it  is  termed,  is  the  "Golden  Bull"  by  which  the 
election  of  the  emperors  was  regulated. 

The  house  in  which  Goethe  was  born  is  regarded  by  the 
city  of  Frankfort  as  one  of  its  most  sacred  objects,  and, 
like  that  of  Shakespeare,  it  will  no  doubt  be  preserved  with 
scrupulous  care  to  the  latest  generation.  Considered  by 
itself,  it  is  of  no  account,  as  it  is  simply  an  old,  two-story 
building,  without  any  architectural  beauty,  or  any  special 
comfort  or  convenience.  The  rooms  are  small,  and  the 
ceilings  very  low.  Among  the  relics  of  the  great  man 
that  remain,  a  leather-covered  chair  and  a  few  old,  well- 
worn  books  are  shown.  It  was  from  the  upper  front 
chamber  of  this  house  that  the  youth  was  in  the  habit  of 
communicating  by  signs  and  other  means  with  Gretchen, 
a  girl  in  the  humbler  walks  of  life,  his  first  and  for  a  long 
time  his  only  love.  The  father  of  the  poet  was  the  son  of 
a  tailor.  By  his  talents,  probity,  and  industry  he  rose  to 
a  prominent  position  among  his  fellow-citizens,  and  spared 
no  pains  to  give  his  boy  all  the  educational  advantages 
afforded  by  his  own  and  foreign  countries.  The  mother, 
too,  was  a  person  of  more  than  ordinary  intellect.     Order, 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  249 

quiet,  and  strong  common-sense  were  her  characteristics ; 
and  it  is  not  improbable  that  the  son  inherited  from  her  a 
large  share  of  the  genius  which  made  him  the  first  literary 
man  of  his  age. 

It  was  with  feelings  of  no  ordinar}^  kind  that  we  left 
Frankfort  for  Homburg,  to  enjoy  a  week  of  absolute  repose 
at  that  charming  watering-place.  We  had  been  constantly 
on  the  wing  for  more  than  two  months,  and  as  we  had 
suffered  a  good  deal  from  the  heat,  especially  during  the 
last  fortnight,  we  were  very  anxious  to  get  to  a  cool,  quiet 
spot  A  ride  of  thirty  minutes  over  a  pleasant,  undulating 
country',  nearly  all  the  way  in  sight  of  the  Taunus  Moun- 
tains, brought  us  to  our  destination.  Homburg,  a  town  of 
nearly  ten  thousand  inhabitants,  is  celebrated  for  its  min- 
eral waters,  its  elegant  bathing  establishments,  its  hand- 
some residences,  and  its  beautiful  and  picturesque  prome- 
nades. The  Kursaal  is  a  large,  elegant  edifice,  superbly 
furnished,  and  surrounded  by  beautiful  grounds,  enlivened 
by  excellent  music.  It  was  the  resort  for  years  of  fashion- 
able people  from  all  parts  of  Europe,  especially  of  inva- 
lids in  search  of  health  by  drinking  its  various  mineral 
waters.  Numerous  gamblers  made  the  Kursaal  annually 
their  headquarters ;  and  for  many  years,  much  to  its  dis- 
credit, the  government  received  a  large  revenue  from  this 
source  from  the  lessees  of  the  establishment.  Since  our 
visit,  in  1868,  the  gambling-saloons  have  been  closed,  and 
the  house  and  grounds  have  assumed  a  more  respectable 
character.  Notwithstanding  that  many  of  the  people  who 
resort  to  Homburg  possess  great  wealth,  there  was  a  re- 
markable dearth  of  fine  equipages,  although  it  was  the 
height  of  the  season.  It  was  interesting  to  watch  the 
gaming-tables,  attended  indiscriminately  by  men  and 
women,  old  and  young,  and  to  observe  their  countenances 
as  the  little  ball  whirled  around  the  insatiate  wheel,  bring- 
ing joy  to  some,  and  grief  to  others.  None  appeared  more 
excited  than  the  old  ladies  ;  none  picked  up  their  ill-gotten 
1—32 


250  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

gains  more  eagerly ;  and  none  looked  more  disconcerted 
when  they  found  themselves  slighted  by  Fortune.  Consid- 
ered all  in  all,  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  of  a  more  lovely 
spot  as  a  summer  residence  than  Homburg. 

As  the  distance  from  Frankfort  to  Heidelberg  is  only 
fifty-four  miles,  we  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  visit 
a  city  so  celebrated  as  the  seat  of  one  of  the  most  renowned 
universities  of  Germany,  to  say  nothing  of  its  many  ro- 
mantic associations.  The  journey,  which  occupied  only 
two  hours,  extends  through  a  beautiful  and  highly  culti- 
vated country,  covered  with  fields  of  wheat  partly  in 
shocks,  and  numerous  patches  of  tobacco  in  a  remarkably 
flourishing  condition.  The  soil  seemed  to  be  very  rich, 
and  the  general  aspect  of  the  country  reminded  me  forci- 
bly of  Lancaster  County,  Pennsylvania.  Ten  miles  from 
Frankfort  we  passed  through  the  old  city  of  Darmstadt, 
and  farther  along,  on  our  left,  a  high  range  of  hills,  with 
now  and  then  an  ancient  castle.  The  day — the  23d  of 
July — was  hot  and  sultry,  and  the  dust  annoying. 

Heidelberg  is  situated  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Neckar,  a 
stream  about  the  width  of  the  Schuylkill,  and  contains 
nearly  twenty  thousand  inhabitants.  Its  position  is  re- 
markably picturesque,  being  bounded  on  the  one  side  by 
the  river,  and  by  high  hills  on  the  other.  The  main 
street  is  very  wide,  well  shaded,  nearly  two  miles  in 
length.  The  modern  parts  of  the  city  contain  many 
beautiful  private  residences.  The  University,  founded  in 
the  fourteenth  century,  is  a  very  old,  unprepossessing  edi- 
fice, which,  but  for  the  many  classical  and  endearing  asso- 
ciations which  cluster  around  it,  might  well  be  replaced  by 
a  better  and  more  suitable  structure.  As  it  was  vacation 
season,  there  were  scarcely  any  students  about  it.  The 
library  contains  nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
volumes,  and  is  particularly  rich  in  antique  works,  and 
in  books  on  theology,  jurisprudence,  and  philology.  It 
has  also  many  manuscripts.     The  conveniences  for  car- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  251 

rying  on  all  kinds  of  studies — literary,  professional,  and 
scientific — are  on  an  ample  scale.  The  number  of  students 
is  not  nearly  so  great  now  as  formerly.  Its  medical  de- 
partment, especially  in  the  days  of  Chelius,  Tiedemann, 
and  Gmelin,  was  at  one  time  one  of  the  most  famous  in 
Germany.  That,  too,  has  gone  to  naught.  What  agency 
the  fighting  element  in  the  "  Burschenshaften,"  resulting 
in  frequent  duels,  has  exerted  in  bringing  about  this  result 
is  a  problem  which  it  is  not  hard  to  solve.  The  conduct 
of  the  authorities  who  permitted  such  flagrant  outrages 
cannot  be  too  severely  censured.  The  ultimate  effects 
upon  the  prosperity  of  the  University  could  not  be  for  a 
moment  doubted.  The  practice  was  a  relic  of  barbarism, 
of  the  most  revolting  character.  In  the  mean  time,  while 
the  custom  was  sanctioned,  and  the  institution  was  suffer- 
ing from  its  consequences,  other  universities  sprang  into 
notice,  and  naturally  attracted  students  of  the  better 
class.  Heidelberg  has  educated  immense  numbers  of 
great  men  ;  and  some  of  our  own  most  distinguished  schol- 
ars, such  as  Everett,  Bancroft,  and  Longfellow,  are  among 
its  alumni.  There  seems  to  be  a  fatality  in  the  affairs  of 
scholastic  and  scientific  institutions  as  there  is  in  the 
affairs  of  families,  of  communities,  and  of  nations. 

The  Hirschgasse,  the  house  in  which  the  duels  take 
place,  is  situated  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  Neckar,  a 
short  distance  below  the  city.  Curiosity  led  us  to  visit  it. 
There  is  nothing  peculiar  about  it,  or  anything  that  would 
suggest  the  idea  that  it  was  the  frequent  scene  of  such  dis- 
reputable rencounters.  The  fighting  is  usually  done  with 
swords,  which  are  always  kept  in  the  best  possible  condi- 
tion for  the  purpose.  When  it  takes  place  on  account  of 
feuds  existing  between  different  corps,  of  which  there  are 
not  less  than  six  or  eight,  the  combatants  wear  thick,  heavy 
caps,  and  thick  bandages  round  their  necks  as  a  means 
of  protection  ;  but  when  they  engage  on  their  own  account 
these  trappings   are  dispensed  with,   it  being   considered 


252  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

dishonorable  to  employ  tliem.  Terrible  gasbes,  leaving 
unseemly  scars  for  the  rest  of  life,  are  often  inflicted,  espe- 
cially upon  the  face,  and  now  and  then  a  mortal  wound. 
The  man  who  receives  the  least  number  of  cuts  is  declared 
the  victor.  Sometimes  the  combat,  after  having  lasted  for 
an  indefinite  period,  without  resulting  in  a  satisfactory 
manner,  is  renewed  at  a  future  day,  as  soon  as  the  parties 
are  sufficiently  recovered  from  the  effects  of  their  injuries. 

Next  in  interest  to  the  University  is  the  Castle  of 
Heidelberg,  noted  for  its  antiquity,  its  picturesque  situ- 
ation upon  a  high  hill,  its  architectural  magnificence,  and 
its  historical  associations.  Originally  it  v/as  occupied 
both  as  a  fortress  and  as  a  palace.  In  the  latter  part  of 
the  seventeenth  century  it  was  sacked  and  partly  burned 
by  the  French,  and  in  1764  it  was  struck  by  lightning.  It 
was  an  immense  structure,  and  if  all  is  true  which  is  said 
of  its  wine-cellars  it  must  have  been  the  seat  of  princely 
hospitality.  Only  two  of  the  original  thirteen  casks  re- 
main. The  celebrated  Heidelberger  Fass,  as  it  is  called, 
is  said  to  hold  eight  hundred  hogsheads,  or  nearly  three 
hundred  thousand  bottles  of  wine.  The  capacity  of  the 
other  is  sixty  thousand  gallons.  Close  by  the  larger  of 
these  casks  is  the  wooden  statue  of  the  court-fool  Porkes, 
who  daily,  on  an  average,  drank  from  fifteen  to  eighteen 
bottles  of  wine,  and  never  went  to  bed  sober.  On  the  wall 
of  the  cellar,  near  the  famous  Fass,  is  a  box,  upon  touching 
the  spring  of  which  a  fox's  tail  flies  out.  It  is  one  of  the 
original  relics  of  the  place,  and,  together  with  the  court- 
fool,  must  have  been  a  source  of  merriment  to  the  people 
of  the  castle. 

The  IVIuseum,  known  as  the  Kunst  und  Alterthum  Halle, 
a  short  distance  from  the  city,  interests  one  very  much.  It 
is  filled  with  ancient  curiosities,  and  is  particularly  rich 
in  instruments  of  torture.  A  prominent  object  is  a  chair, 
of  peculiar  construction,  in  which  the  criminal  used  to  sit 
while  his  head  was  beins:  struck  off  with  a  broadsword. 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  253 

The  signal  for  the  blow  was  the  ringing  of  an  old  hemi- 
spherical bell,  which  was  suspended  from  the  wall,  and 
which  emitted  a  gruff,  dolorous  sound  befitting  the  occasion. 
There  is  a  rack,  shaped  like  a  cross,  on  which  the  criminal 
was  stretched  beyond  his  natural  length ;  and  another 
for  crushing  the  body  and  limbs.  There  are  several  speci- 
mens of  thumb-screws,  an  iron  thorn  for  tearing  the  flesh 
on  the  back,  a  whip  for  flogging  persons,  and  a  wheel  for 
crushing  bones.  There  is  also  a  curious  figure  with  a  face 
in  the  shape  of  a  violin,  with  a  hole  in  the  top  for  the 
neck  and  two  perforations  for  the  arms,  used  for  punishing 
liars  and  thieves,  who  were  thus  driven  through  the  streets 
as  a  chastisement.  Compared  with  these  the  whipping- 
posts of  our  Delaware  neighbors  are  playthings.  In 
the  armory  in  the  upper  room  of  the  museum  I  noticed 
two  revolvers,  each  with  a  lock  and  flint,  manufactured 
more  than  two  centuries  ago.  In  looking  at  these  weapons 
one  could  not  help  exclaiming,  "  Long  live  Colt !"  Among 
other  curiosities  in  this  remarkable  building  are  garments 
of  an  old  robber,  who  killed  twelve  soldiers  before  he  was 
captured  by  the  elector's  guards. 

A  visit  to  the  Molkenkur,  a  large  house  upon  the  sum- 
mit of  the  high  mountain  back  of  the  castle,  for  treat- 
ing invalids  with  buttermilk,  repays  one  by  the  charming 
views  which  it  affords  of  Heidelberg  and  the  surroundina: 
country, — the  Neckar,  as  it  winds  for  miles,  like  a  ser- 
pent, towards  the  Rhine  ;  the  two  banks  of  that  beautiful 
river  clothed  with  verdure  and  magnificent  graperies  ;  the 
Rhine  itself  at  a  great  distance  ;  the  grand  old  bridge  across 
the  Neckar  almost  in  the  heart  of  the  city ;  and  the  hills 
and  fertile  plains  as  far  as  the  eye  can  see.  A  drive  of 
two  miles  brings  one  to  the  Wolfsbrunnen,  where,  as  the 
story  goes,  the  enchantress  Jetta  was  torn  to  pieces  by 
wolves — a  romantic  spot,  more  famous  at  the  present 
day  for  its  fine  trout  dinners  than  for  its  witches  and 
wild  animals. 


254.  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

Before  bidding  adieu  to  this  delightful  city  I  spent 
an  hour  with  the  eminent  surgeon  Maximilian  Joseph 
Chelius,  with  whose  name  and  fame  I  had  long  been 
familiar,  and  between  whom  and  myself  there  had  been 
an  interchange  of  civilities.  He  received  me  with  courtly 
dignity,  and  soon  entered  into  an  animated  conversation, 
in  which  he  particularly  inquired  after  Dr.  Gibson  and 
Dr.  Miitter,  with  whose  scientific  labors  and  contributions 
he  seemed  to  be  perfectly  familiar.  His  residence,  near 
the  bank  of  the  Neckar,  is  almost  palatial,  and  is  sur- 
rounded by  beautiful  grounds  and  shrubbery,  the  whole 
exhibiting  great  taste  and  refinement.  Without  asking 
him,  he  told  me  that  he  was  seventy-four  years  of  age, 
that  he  had  resigned  his  chair  in  the  University  several 
years  ago,  and  that  he  was  now  living  in  retirement.  For 
the  last  forty  years,  he  said,  he  had  spent  a  part  of  every 
summer  at  Baden  Baden,  within  three  hours'  ride  by  rail 
of  Heidelberg.  Tall,  erect,  with  a  handsome,  benevo- 
lent face,  and  black  eyes,  he  was  remarkably  well  pre- 
served, and  looked  as  if  he  might  live  to  a  very  old  age. 
IMy  expectations  were  not  disappointed.  In  August,  1876, 
the  telegraph  brought  me  an  account  of  his  death,  at  the 
age  of  eighty-two  years.  The  obituary  notice  states  that 
he  was  a  native  of  Mannheim,  in  the  Grand  Duchy  of 
Baden,  where  he  was  born  in  1794.  He  was  elected  to 
the  chair  of  Surgery  at  Heidelberg  in  1819,  at  the  age 
of  twenty-five,  and  in  1843-45  published  his  celebrated 
Handbuch  der  Chirurgie,  translated  into  numerous  lan- 
guages. An  English  version  by  the  late  INIr.  South,  of 
London,  enriched  by  extensive  additions,  was  republished 
in  Philadelphia  many  years  ago  under  the  supervision  of 
the  late  Dr.  George  W.  Norris.  Besides  this  work,  Chelius 
produced  at  an  early  period  of  his  life  a  Treatise  on  the 
Eye,  and  he  was  also  a  copious  contributor  to  the  periodical 
press.  He  was  one  of  the  great  pillars  of  the  medical 
school  of  Heidelberg.     He  obtained  his   medical  degree 


SAMUEL   D.   GROSS,  M.  D.  255 

when  he  was  only  eighteen  years  of  age.  Before  he  settled 
at  Heidelberg  he  had  j^ractised  his  profession  in  different 
towns,  and  was  for  a  time  physician  to  the  hospital  at 
Ingelstadt  in  Bavaria.  His  experience  was  greatly  ex- 
tended by  accompanying  the  German  army  into  France, 
and  by  visiting  the  hospitals  and  universities  of  Vienna, 
Gottingen,  and  Berlin.  Owing  to  his  great  accomplish- 
ments as  a  surgeon  and  as  a  physician,  and  to  his  high 
social  position,  he  attracted  around  him  for  nearly  half  a 
centur>'  much  of  the  best  practice  in  Northern  Germany. 
During  the  illness  of  the  young  Prince  Imperial  he  was 
summoned  to  Paris  to  consult  with  Nelaton  and  others 
respecting  the  nature  and  treatment  of  his  disease.  When 
I  rose  to  depart,  the  veteran  surgeon  warmly  pressed  my 
hand  and  thanked  me  for  my  visit. 

The  ride  from  Frankfort  to  INIayence  by  rail  occupies 
twelve  minutes  and  extends  over  a  pleasant,  highly-cul- 
tivated countr\^,  which,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  latter 
cit}'',  is  one  great  field  of  grapevines  ;  from  these  are  manu- 
factured the  sparkling  Hock  and  Moselle,  so  celebrated 
throughout  Europe.  Taking  our  passage  on  board  the 
Mayence  and  Cologne  steamer,  a  small  boat  with  an  open 
upper  deck,  somewhat  like  what  one  sees  in  the  United 
States,  we  floated  down  the  Rhine  as  far  as  Coblentz,  where 
we  disembarked  to  view  that  venerable  city,  as  well  as 
Ehrenbreitstein,  perched  upon  a  high  and  rugged  hill 
immediately  opposite,  the  two  being  closely  connected  by 
a  bridge  of  boats  nearly  four  hundred  yards  in  length.  On 
our  right,  as  we  descended  the  river,  was  pointed  out  to 
us  the  celebrated  castle  of  Johannisberg,  the  residence  of 
Prince  Aletternich,  to  whom  it  was  presented  by  the 
Emperor  of  Austria.  It  is  here  that  the  famous  Johan- 
nisberger  wine  is  made,  the  vineyard  covering  only  thirty- 
eight  acres.  About  three  miles  farther  down,  on  the  same 
side  of  the  river,  is  Riidesberg,  also  celebrated  for  the  ex- 
cellence of  its  wine.     The  grapes  grown  at  these  two  spots 


256  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

owe  their  superior  quality,  it  should  seem,  to  the  fact  that, 
in  pleasant  weather,  the  sun  from  the  time  it  rises  until  it 
sets  never  leaves  them,  thus  giving  to  the  soil  the  warmth 
and  fertility  so  essential  to  the  culture  of  this  fruit. 

Coblentz,  founded  a  short  time  before  the  Christian  era, 
is  situated  at  the  confluence  of  the  Rhine  and  Moselle, 
and  abounds  in  historical  associations.  It  is  the  seat  of  a 
palace  occupied  as  a  summer  residence  by  the  emperor, 
and  has  the  finest  wnne-cellars  in  Germany.  The  streets 
are,  for  the  most  part,  narrov/  and  uninviting.  Some 
fine  private  dwellings  are  to  be  seen  in  the  newer  parts 
of  the  city,  and  there  are  several  excellent  hotels  on  the 
river  bank  opposite  Ehrenbreitstein.  Every  stranger  of 
course  visits  the  Church  of  St.  Castor  and  the  celebrated 
Castorbrunnen,  erected  in  181 2  by  the  French  prefect  in 
commemoration  of  the  French  campaign  against  Russia, 
and  rendered  famous  by  the  sarcastic  inscription  of  the 
Russian  General  St.  Priest,  who  recaptured  the  city  in 
January,  18 14.  Close  by  is  a  fine  view  of  the  Moselle  and 
of  the  beautiful  valley  through  which  it  meanders  just  be- 
fore it  empties  into  the  Rhine. 

Ehrenbreitstein,  often  called  the  Gibraltar  of  the  Rhine, 
is  so  famous  in  history  and  romance  as  to  be  of  itself 
almost  worthy  of  a  visit  on  the  part  of  the  American 
tourist.  Everybody,  far  and  wide,  has  heard  or  read  of 
it  in  novels  and  the  illustrated  annuals  which  were  once 
so  fashionable.  The  officer  in  charge,  learning  that  we 
were  from  the  United  States,  the  land  of  Washington,  was 
particularly  courteous  and  communicative.  He  pointed 
out  to  us  every  object  of  interest  in  and  about  this  cele- 
brated fortress,  and  the  spots  whence  we  could  behold  to 
the  greatest  advantage  the  surrounding  country  with  its 
glorious  scenery  and  its  two  beautiful  vine-clad  rivers 
lying  immediately  at  our  feet,  with  the  fertile  valleys 
through  which  they  run,  and  the  numerous  villages,  hills, 
and  mountains  which  dot  the  landscape  in  every  direction 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  257 

as  far  as  the  eye  can  see.  Our  visit  was  made  on  a 
bright  afternoon  in  July,  and  the  very  atmosphere  seemed 
to  be  redolent  of  joy,  so  genial  and  pleasant  was  everj^- 
thing  around  us.  Two  more  agreeable  or  happy  hours  I 
never  spent. 

The  next  morning,  Sunday,  at  nine  o'clock,  we  found 
ourselves  on  the  steamer  on  our  way  to  Bonn,  intending 
to  stop  there  a  few  hours,  and  then  to  proceed  to  Cologne. 
As  we  passed  along  we  found  the  shores  lined  with  people, 
and  at  one  of  the  towns  we  saw  a  large  Catholic  procession 
with  a  boy  carr}'ing  the  Host  before  him  upon  a  high  pole. 
I  never  witnessed  a  more  merry  company.  Song  and  mirth 
in  various  forms  were  evidently  the  order  of  the  day,  and 
the  Saviour,  represented  by  the  image,  was  treated  in 
the  most  unceremonious  manner.  Just  here  a  little  dis- 
covery was  made  which  completely  changed  our  plans  for 
the  day.  One  of  our  party,  much  to  her  consternation, 
found  that  she  had  left  her  purse,  freighted  with  gold 
coin,  at  the  hotel  under  the  pillow  of  her  bed.  Em- 
bracing the  earliest  opportunity  to  go  ashore,  she  took  the 
train  which  soon  after  came  along  for  Coblentz,  and  within 
less  than  an  hour  reached  the  Giant,  where  she  had  slept 
the  previous  night.  Making  known  her  loss,  the  chamber- 
maid was  summoned,  the  fact  disclosed,  and  the  purse  with 
its  contents  restored,  greatly  to  the  joy  of  all  concerned. 
I  am  induced  to  mention  this  circumstance  simply  to  con- 
firm, what  I  believe  is  generally  known,  that  the  ser- 
vants at  the  German  inns  are,  as  a  rule,  very  honest  and 
trustworthy. 

Bonn,  nearly  midway  between  Coblentz  and  Cologne, 
is  interesting  chiefly  on  account  of  its  old  Minster  Church, 
its  well-organized  Universit}'',  its  splendid  avenues  shaded 
by  double  rows  of  horse-chestnut  trees,  and  its  scientific 
and  literary  society.  The  University,  founded  by  the  King 
of  Prussia  in  18 18,  is  one  of  the  most  celebrated  in  Ger- 
many. Its  Faculties  are  extremely  able  ;  and  the  number 
1—33 


258  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

of  students  is  considerably  over  one  thousand.  The  build- 
ing, which  was  formerly  occupied  as  a  palace,  and  in  which 
are  commodious  and  well-arranged  lecture-rooms,  is  nearly 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length.  Attached  to  it  are  a  museum 
of  Rhenish  antiquities  and  a  library  of  nearly  two  hundred 
thousand  volumes.  At  the  time  of  my  visit,  preparations 
were  in  progress  for  the  celebration,  on  the  2d  of  August, 
of  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  University.  The  medical 
department  has  long  been  in  a  flourishing  condition,  and 
a  number  of  the  teachers  enjoy  a  well-earned  reputation. 
It  was  my  good  fortune  to  meet,  among  others,  one 
of  the  most  distinguished  members  of  the  Faculty,  Dr. 
Busch,  the  Professor  of  Surgery  and  the  Director  of  the 
Surgical  Clinic,  with  whom  I  passed  a  very  pleasant  hour, 
the  conversation  relating  chiefly  to  medical  education  in 
Germany  and  the  United  States.  On  taking  my  leave  he 
kindly  placed  in  my  hands  a  number  of  brochures  and 
pamphlets,  written  by  himself,  upon  various  subjects  con- 
nected with  surgery.  The  great  composer,  Beethoven, 
was  a  native  of  Bonn,  and  a  beautiful  bronze  monument 
is  erected  to  his  memory  in  the  heart  of  the  city.  Bonn 
affords  a  fine  view  on  the  bank  of  the  river  of  the  villages 
of  Konigswinter  and  Drachenfels,  especially  of  the  latter, 
situated,  as  the  name  implies,  upon  a  rock,  nearly  nine 
hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  Rhine.  The  slopes 
of  the  rock  are  covered  with  vineyards,  one  of  which  con- 
tains the  cavern  once  occupied,  as  the  story  goes,  by  the 
dragon  slain  by  Siegfried,  the  hero  of  Holland,  who, 
having  bathed  himself  in  the  monster's  blood,  became 
invulnerable.  The  wine  yielded  by  the  grapes  grown  upon 
Drachenfels  is  known  as  the  Dragon's  blood. 

The  Rhine  beyond  Bonn  loses  its  interest.  Its  banks  are 
flat  and  destitute  of  beauty.  It  was  late  in  the  evening 
when  our  boat,  crowded  to  excess,  landed  at  Cologne. 
Soon  after  we  left  Bonn  the  moon  rose  in  all  her  grandeur 
and  threw  her  bright  rays  in  beautiful  images  upon  the 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  259 

water.  The  passengers  were  merry,  and  while  many  of 
them  engaged  in  loud  conversation,  not  a  few  amused 
themselves  with  singing  religious  or  national  songs. 

Arriving  at  Cologne,  we  selected  the  Hotel  du  Nord  as 
our  temporary  resting-place,  and,  after  an  early  breakfast, 
the  next  morning  we  sallied  forth  sight-seeing.  The  chief 
objects  of  interest  in  this  old  city,  now  containing  nearly 
one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  inhabitants,  inclusive  of 
seven  thousand  soldiers,  are  the  Cathedral,  Dom,  or  Minster 
of  St.  Peter,  St.  Ursula,  the  Giirzenich,  the  iron  bridge 
across  the  Rhine  nearly  fourteen  hundred  feet  in  length, 
the  Museum  of  Roman  Antiquities,  and  the  botanical  and 
zoological  gardens.  The  Cathedral,  one  of  the  finest  speci- 
mens of  Gothic  architecture  in  the  world,  although  begun 
in  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century,  is  still  unfinished, 
notwithstanding  several  millions  of  dollars  have  been  ex- 
pended upon  it  during  the  last  fifty  years  by  the  German 
rulers  and  the  friends  of  the  church  in  different  parts  of 
Europe.  Numerous  workmen  were  busily  engaged  upon 
it  at  the  time  of  our  visit.  The  structure,  which  stands 
upon  a  slight  eminence  a  short  distance  from  the  river,  is 
more  than  four  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  length  by  one 
hundred  and  forty  in  width,  the  portion  appropriated  to 
divine  serv'ice  occupying  an  area  of  seventy  thousand 
square  feet.  The  two  towers  when  completed  will  each 
be  five  hundred  feet  high.  What  the  good  citizens  of 
Cologne  want  with  so  gigantic  an  edifice  it  would  be 
difficult  to  conjecture,  unless  it  is  their  desire  to  be  con- 
sidered the  most  holy  people  in  the  world,  a  thing  which 
every  one  who  has  had  any  dealings  with  them  would 
.find  it  hard  to  believe,  since,  even  as  respects  the  special 
liquid  prepared  in  the  city,  all  tourists  are  cautioned  to 
buy  at  one  house  only,  the  article  sold  by  all  the  rest  being 
declared  to  be  spurious. 

St.  Ursula  is  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world,  a  perfect 
Golgotha,  literally  a  place  of  skulls  and  other  bones,  ar- 


26o  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

ranged  in  cases  in  every  nook  and  corner  round  tlie  cliurch. 
The  sight  is  not  only  horrid,  but  excessively  disgusting, 
even  to  an  anatomist  accustomed  to  the  handling  of  dead 
bodies.  These  hideous  relics  are  said  to  be  the  bones  of 
eleven  thousand  virgins,  who  accompanied  St.  Ursula, 
daughter  of  the  King  of  Brittany,  on  a  pilgrimage  to 
Rome,  on  returning  from  which  they  were  foully  mur- 
dered by  the  Huns.  How  these  bones  were  prepared 
for  this  unique  museum  is  a  mystery.  The  church  in 
which  they  are  contained  was  erected  at  the  beginning  of 
the  twelfth  century.  In  the  choir  is  a  monument  in  honor 
of  St.  Ursula,  who  was  shortly  after  her  death  enshrined 
as  the  patron  saint  of  Chastity.  It  would  be  very  difficult, 
if  not  impossible,  at  the  present  day,  to  get  together  such 
a  collection  of  virgins  in  any  part  of  Europe  or  this  coun- 
try. Other  relics  are  to  be  seen  in  this  remarkable  place, 
such  as  earthen  vessels  used  by  the  Saviour  at  the  mar- 
riage in  Cana ;  a  part  of  the  chain  with  which  St.  Peter 
was  bound  ;  and  a  fragment  of  the  garment  worn  by  Christ 
at  the  crucifixion. 

The  hospital  at  Cologne  is  a  large,  well-arranged  edifice, 
in  charge  of  the  Sisters  of  Charity.  It  is  surrounded  by 
handsome  grounds,  set  out  in  shrubbery,  and  is  under 
the  supervision  of  an  able  staff.  On  the  road  to  Aix-la- 
Chapelle  I  saw  a  man  who,  twenty  years  previously,  on 
account  of  a  railway  injury,  had  one  arm  and  both  legs 
amputated  at  the  same  time  by  Dr.  Fischer,  the  eminent 
surgeon  of  Cologne,  the  fellow  recovering,  as  he  told  me, 
without  a  bad  symptom.  This  result,  of  which  there  are 
several  cases  on  record,  among  others  one  by  the  late  Dr. 
Koehler,  of  Schuylkill  Haven,  Pennsylvania,  is  a  triumph 
of  surgery.  As  if  to  cap  the  climax,  Dr.  Begg,  of  Dundee, 
Scotland,  in  1869  amputated  all  the  extremities  of  a 
young  woman,  the  subject  of  embolic  gangrene.  She  not 
only  rapidly  recovered,  but  is  able  to  walk  with  the  aid  of 
crutches  and  to  earn  a  livelihood  by  knitting  and  by  vari- 


SAMUEL   D.   GROSS,  M.  D.  261 

ous  other  kinds  of  work.  She  feeds  and  dresses  herself, 
and  even  writes  an  excellent  hand  !  Is  there  really  any 
use  for  hands  and  feet  ? 

Aix-la-Chapelle,  a  beautiful  old  town,  with  many  hand- 
some modern  improvements,  is  celebrated  as  the  birthplace 
of  Charlemagne,  as  the  city  in  which  for  several  centuries 
the  German  emperors  were  crowned,  and  as  a  watering- 
place,  famous  for  its  hot  sulphur  springs  and  bathing 
establishments.  Persons  suffering  from  gout,  rheumatism, 
neuralgia,  and  constitutional  syphilis  resort  to  it  from  all 
parts  of  the  civilized  v.'orld  in  quest  of  health.  The  water 
is  strongly  impregnated  with  sulphur,  and  as  it  issues  from 
the  wells  is  disagreeably  hot.  The  new  Kursaal  is  close 
by,  and  is  provided  with  pleasant  grounds  and  prome- 
nades. It  is  a  curious  as  well  as  a  sad  sight  on  a  fine  day 
to  see  the  cripples  hobble  about,  some  on  sticks,  some  on 
crutches,  and  others  on  disabled  limbs,  wincing  and  writh- 
ing under  their  aches  and  pains  as  they  go  along.  The 
Cathedral,  an  old  massive  structure,  remodelled  in  the 
present  century,  contains  the  tomb  of  Charlemagne  and 
numerous  sacred  relics — such  as  a  robe  of  the  Virgin  Mar}% 
the  leathern  girdle  of  Christ,  a  part  of  the  true  cross,  and 
the  bloody  cloth  in  which  the  body  of  John  the  Baptist 
was  wrapped  after  his  execution.  These  relics  are  publicly 
exhibited  every  seven  years  with  great  pomp  and  cere- 
mony, and  attract  vast  crowds  of  people,  by  whom  they 
are  regarded  with  sacred  awe.  Among  other  objects  of 
interest  in  this  church  are  the  skull  of  Charlemagne,  one 
of  his  leg  bones,  and  his  hunting-horn.  Evidently  the 
German  people  have  a  great  fondness  for  storing  away 
and  looking  at  dead  men's  bones.  In  the  United  States 
all  such  objects  are  regarded  with  well-merited  disgust. 
Even  Byron's  celebrated  drinking-cup  would  here  find 
few  admirers  and  still  fewer  purchasers. 

The  country  between  Aix-la-Chapelle  and  Rotterdam 
is  mostly  flat,   especially  that   part  of  it  which   lies   at 


262  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

some  distance  beyond  the  former  city,  and  it  is,  in  the 
main,  quite  uninteresting.  From  Antwerp  to  Rotterdam 
the  journey  is  made  partly  by  rail  and  partly  by  boat,  on 
the  river  Meuse,  and  occupies  four  hours  and  a  half.  The 
track  rests  upon  sandy  soil,  upon  a  dead  level,  the  whole 
bearing  a  strong  resemblance  to  that  between  Camden  and 
Atlantic  City  or  Cape  May.  The  steamboat  was  small, 
dirty,  and  uncomfortable,  without  any  of  the  conveniences 
found  upon  our  Delaware  or  Hudson  River  vessels.  The 
Meuse  is  a  wide,  deep,  magnificent  stream,  abounding 
in  fish,  especially  salmon  and  sturgeon,  both  of  which 
are  taken  in  large  quantities.  The  harbor  of  Rotterdam 
reminds  one  of  that  of  New  York.  It  is  of  considerable 
extent,  and  at  the  time  of  our  visit  it  contained  a  number 
of  large  and  small  vessels,  which  gave  the  wharf  a  very 
lively  appearance.  It  is  a  notorious  fact  that  Rotterdam 
has  not  one  respectable  hotel.  The  house  at  which  we 
stopped,  said  to  be  the  first  in  the  place,  was  decidedly 
untidy  and  unattractive,  and  would  hardly  have  compared 
favorably  with  the  meanest  hotel  in  any  of  our  inland 
towns.  Rotterdam  is  a  seafaring  place,  overrun  with  sail- 
ors, and  this  is  probably  the  reason  why  the  accommo- 
dations are  so  indifferent.  The  two  objects  worthy  of 
special  notice  in  the  entire  city  are  the  house  in  which 
Erasmus  was  born,  and  the  monument  erected  to  his  mem- 
ory in  the  market-place.  The  figure  is  that  of  a  student 
in  gown  and  cap,  with  an  open  book  in  hand. 

The  ride  by  rail  from  Rotterdam  to  Amsterdam  occupies 
two  hours  and  twenty  minutes,  and  extends  over  a  level 
country  dotted  by  windmills  and  intersected  by  numerous 
dykes,  not  a  fence  being  visible  on  the  entire  route.  The 
fields  were  enlivened  by  numerous  cattle  and  sheep,  many 
of  the  former  being  white  and  black,  and  comparatively 
few  being  brown.  The  crops  consisted  chiefly  of  oats, 
buckwheat,  and  potatoes — wheat  and  rye  being  rarely  ob- 
served.    Beautiful  fields  of  red  clover,  similar  to  our  own, 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  263 

also  greeted  the  eye.  Vety  few  trees,  and  those  generally 
of  small  size,  were  seen.  Amsterdam  affords  a  great  con- 
trast to  Rotterdam.  The  latter  is  barren  of  interest ;  the 
former  abounds  in  it,  and  the  tourist  consequently  leaves  it 
with  regret.  In  many  respects  Amsterdam  strongly  resem- 
bles Venice.  It  is  a  city  emphatically  built  upon  piles, 
intersected  by  canals  and  covered  with  bridges,  the  latter 
numbering  nearly  three  hundred,  many  of  them  being 
handsome  and  costly  structures.  The  hotels,  unlike  those 
of  Rotterdam,  are  on  a  large  and  elegant  scale,  and  an  en- 
tirely different  atmosphere  pervades  the  place.  Many  of 
the  streets  are  wide,  and  flanked  by  fine  dwellings  built  in 
the  modem  style  ;  while  nearly  all  the  older  residences  are 
faced  with  gables,  similar  to  the  houses  one  still  sees  at 
Albany  and  other  Dutch  towns  in  New  York.  The  harbor 
is  excellent,  and  covered  with  ships  trading  with  all  parts 
of  the  w^orld,  and  returning  laden  with  the  harvests  of 
other  climes.  Amsterdam  is  one  of  the  richest  cities  in 
Europe.  The  manufacture  and  sale  of  diamonds  are  car- 
ried on  here  on  a  large  scale  by  the  Jews,  of  whom  there 
are  not  less  than  twenty  thousand,  living  chiefly  in  the 
more  dirty  and  obscure  parts  of  the  city.  Some  of  the 
finest  pictures  in  the  world,  chiefly  by  Dutch  and  Flemish 
artists,  are  to  be  seen  here.  The  Banquet  of  the  Civil 
Guard  by  Van  der  Heist,  in  the  Museum,  comprising 
twenty-five  lifelike  portraits,  is  of  itself  worth  a  visit  to 
Holland.  The  older  Dutch  masters  excelled  in  the  deline- 
ation of  animals  and  birds.  Many  of  these  portraits  are  so 
true  to  nature  that  we  are  literally  entranced  by  the  sight, 
and  ready  to  afiirm  that  the  real  object  is  before  us. 
The  lion  roars,  the  tiger  growls,  the  wolf  grins,  the  fox 
looks  stealthily  at  his  victim,  the  turkey  struts  and  gob- 
bles, and  the  peacock,  proud  of  his  plumage,  expands  his 
tail  and  erects  his  head.  The  scene  is  enchanting,  and 
the  eye,  as  it  turns  away,  instinctively  looks  back  to  take 
another  glance. 


264  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

Amsterdam  is  celebrated  for  its  many  educational  and 
charitable  institutions.  The  Royal  Academy  of  Fine  Arts, 
founded  in  1820,  has  a  large  number  of  pupils,  and  has 
been  of  great  service  in  diffusing  a  taste  for  painting  and 
sculpture.  In  passing  through  the  streets  one  is  struck 
with  the  remarkable  absence  of  poverty  and  dissipation. 
A  ragged  child  or  a  drunken  person  is  a  rare  sight. 
Among  the  great  men  born  in  this  city  may  be  mentioned 
Spinoza,  Swammerdam,  and  Admiral  De  Ruyter,  who 
burned  the  English  fleet  at  Chatham.  Swammerdam,  who 
was  born  in  1637,  was  one  of  the  greatest  anatomists  and 
entomologists  of  his  day ;  and  the  works  of  few  philoso- 
phers are  better  known  or  more  highly  appreciated  than 
those  of  the  Dutch  philosopher.  The  tombs  of  De 
Ruyter,  and  of  Van  den  Vondel  the  famous  Dutch  poet, 
are  in  the  New  Church,  as  it  is  called — a  grand  structure, 
founded  at  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century.  The 
house  in  which  the  admiral  was  born  stands  on  the  wharf. 
A  statue  of  Rembrandt  is  situated  in  a  conspicuous  part 
of  the  city. 

One  of  the  great  objects  of  interest  to  me  at  Amsterdam 
was  the  Public  Hospital,  one  of  the  neatest  and  best  venti- 
lated establishments  of  the  kind  I  have  ever  seen.  It  con- 
tains more  than  six  hundred  beds,  most  of  which  were 
occupied.  The  floors  were  singularly  clean,  and  there  was 
an  entire  absence  of  odor.  Every  ward  has  a  gallery — 
an  arrangement,  I  believe,  peculiar  to  this  institution, 
and  of  course  necessitating  a  high  ceiling.  The  surgical 
ward  was  under  the  charge  of  Professor  Telanus,  a  tall, 
elderly,  agreeable  gentleman,  assisted  by  his  son.  He 
seemed  to  be  much  interested  in  his  patients,  and  took 
great  pains  to  point  out  to  me  the  more  important  cases. 
Among  others  he  showed  me  two  of  elephantiasis:  one  was 
just  admitted ;  the  other  had  been  for  a  fortnight  under 
treatment  by  compression  of  the  femoral  artery  with  a 
ten-pound  weight   kept   up   for  half  an  hour   at  a  time 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  265 

thrice  daily,  the  effect  being  a  marked  diminution  of  the 
size  of  the  limb.  He  also  showed  me  a  case  of  recurring 
chondroma  in  a  boy  thirteen  years  of  age,  situated  on  the 
left  side  of  the  face,  for  the  cure  of  which  he  had,  two 
years  previously,  amputated  the  upper  jaw.  The  lad  was 
very  pale  and  greatly  emaciated,  and  the  countenance  hor- 
ribly disfigured,  the  mouth  being  drawm  towards  the  right 
side  and  the  left  eye  completely  out  of  its  socket.  Death 
would  have  been  a  great  relief  to  the  poor  fellow. 

The  ]\Iedical  School  of  Amsterdam,  in  which  Dr.  Tela- 
nus  is  the  Professor  of  Surgery,  was  founded  about  forty 
}'ears  ago,  and  does  not  seem  to  be  in  a  flourishing  con- 
dition, as  the  classes  are  very  small.  It  has  a  respect- 
able pathological  museum,  and  ample  material  for  thor- 
ough instruction  in  clinical  medicine  and  surgery.  The 
centres  of  medical  teaching  in  Holland  are  Leyden  and 
Utrecht ;  the  former  at  one  time  had  the  most  celebrated 
medical  institution  in  the  world.  Holland  in  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries  produced  a  number  of 
great  anatomists,  physicians,  and  surgeons,  as  well  as 
many  distinguished  medical  teachers.  Herman  Boer- 
haave,  born  in  1668,  was  one  of  the  greatest  physicians 
that  ever  lived.  Able,  learned,  eloquent,  and  of  in- 
defatigable industry,  he  acquired  at  a  comparatively  early 
age  a  world-wide  reputation,  and  attracted  to  Leyden  a 
large  number  of  students  from  all  parts  of  Europe,  and 
not  a  few  also  from  America.  As  an  evidence  of  his  great 
celebrity,  it  is  recorded  that  a  letter  written  in  China  with 
the  simple  superscription,  "Herman  Boerhaave,  Europe," 
readily  reached  its  destination.  Among  his  more  illustri- 
ous pupils,  the  disseminators  of  his  doctrines  and  practice, 
may  be  mentioned  Haller,  Van  Swieten,  Gaubius,  and  Van 
Haen. 

Amsterdam  has  several  large  bookstores,  in  which  I 
found  translations  of  the  works  of  Prescott,  Motley,  and 
other  American  authors.  I  am  indebted  to  Holland  for  a 
1--34 


266  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

translation  of  my  System  of  Surgery,  made  by  Dr.  I.  D. 
Saclise,  a  naval  surgeon,  the  first  part  of  which  was  issued 
at  Nieuwediep  in  1863. 

The  great  attraction  at  Antwerp  is  the  Cathedral,  one 
of  the  grandest  church  edifices  in  Europe,  nearly  five  hun- 
dred feet  in  length  by  two  hundred  and  fifty  in  width,  with 
a  steeple  variously  estimated  at  from  three  hundred  and  fifty 
to  five  hundred  feet  in  height.  It  is  said  that  nearly  eighty 
years  were  occuj)ied  in  its  erection.  Apart  from  its  vast 
size  and  architectural  elegance,  it  is  famous  the  world  over 
for  containing  Rubens' s  wonderful  picture  of  "The  Descent 
from  the  Cross,"  the  chef-d'' ceuvre  of  that  artist.  The  fig- 
ures are  drawn  with  matchless  force  and  expression,  and 
the  whole  scene  is  placed  so  vividly  before  the  eye  that 
one  is  almost  compelled  to  regard  it  as  a  reality.  Rubens 
was  a  native  of  Antwerp,  and  the  house  in  which  he  was 
born  was  long  preserved  as  an  object  of  curiosity.  A  beau- 
tiful monument  of  the  artist  is  contained  in  the  Cathedral. 
The  figures  in  his  "Holy  Family"  are  said  to  represent 
himself,  his  two  wives,  his  son,  his  father,  and  his  grand- 
father. On  each  side  of  the  picture  is  a  statue  in  white 
marble  of  one  of  his  female  descendants,  who  died,  respec- 
tively, in  1834  and  1835.  In  a  retired  part  of  the  great 
church  a  young  man,  bom  without  arms,  and  holding  his 
brush  between  his  toes,  was  busily  engaged  in  copying 
the  Holy  Family,  working,  apparently,  with  facility. 
The  picture  was  not  completed,  but  promised  well,  and 
the  artist  is  regarded  as  an  excellent  painter.  The  city 
is  celebrated  for  its  many  magnificent  churches,  all  con- 
taining paintings  by  such  Flemish  artists  as  Van  Dyke, 
Rubens,  Jordaens,  and  others.  Many  choice  specimens 
are  also  found  in  the  Museum,  one  of  the  most  cele- 
brated in  Europe. 

The  fortifications  of  Antwerp  are  two  miles  or  more  in 
extent,  and  the  harbor  is  one  of  the  finest  in  the  world. 
During  its  best  period,  in  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  cen- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  267 

tunes,  it  was  visited  by  a  greater  number  of  vessels  of 
large  tonnage  than  any  other  city  in  Europe.  The  prin- 
cipal street,  called  Rue  de  ]\Iere,  is  lined  by  magnifi- 
cent shade-trees,  and  is  noted  for  its  elegance.  The 
older  houses  are  all  built  with  the  gables  towards  the 
street,  and  many  of  them  present  a  fine  appearance. 
The  stranger,  in  passing  along  the  wharv^es,  is  attracted 
by  the  sight  of  many  enormous  draught-horses,  almost 
of  gigantic  stature,  and  of  Normandy  descent,  and  he 
asks  himself  the  question,  "Why  is  this  breed  of  horses 
not  introduced  extensively  into  the  United  States  ?' '  Such 
animals,  which  by  the  way  are  a  great  curiosity  to  a  for- 
eigner, could  not  fail  to  be  of  immense  service,  especially 
in  our  larger  cities  in  connection  with  heavy  dray-work. 

A  ride  of  one  hour,  on  July  30th,  carried  us  from  Antwerp 
to  Brussels,  the  distance  being  only  twent}^-seven  miles. 
The  country'  along  the  route  is  quite  level  and  highly 
cultivated.  It  is  covered  with  rich  fields  of  clover, 
wheat,  potatoes,  and  various  kinds  of  vegetables,  exhib- 
iting a  superior  style  of  farming  and  of  horticulture. 
Brussels,  as  ever>^body  is  aware,  is  one  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful cities  in  the  world,  a  second  Paris  in  miniature.  The 
older  streets  are  narrow,  and  the  houses  are  built  in  the 
Dutch  or  Flemish  style  ;  but  the  new  streets  are  noted  for 
their  width,  and  the  modern  dwellings  for  their  elegance. 
The  population  is  rapidly  increasing,  commerce  is  uncom- 
monly active,  the  people  are  refined  and  cultured,  and 
there  are  few  signs  of  idleness  and  intemperance.  The 
University,  founded  in  1834,  is  one  of  the  best  organ- 
ized institutions  of  the  kind  in  Europe.  Its  four  de- 
partments of  literature — or  belles-lettres,  law,  medicine, 
and  science — are  supplied  with  able  teachers,  many  of 
whom  enjoy  a  wide  celebrity.  The  observatory'  is  one  of 
the  finest  in  the  world.  The  public  librar}'  contains 
more  than  two  hundred  thousand  volumes.  The  botan- 
ical gardens  are  large,  attractive,  and  beautifully  situated, 


268  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

affording  charming  promenades  in  pleasant  weather.  The 
Medical  School  annually  educates  a  considerable  number 
of  young  men,  who  receive  their  clinical  instruction  at 
two  large  and  well-arranged  hospitals,  the  St.  Pierre  and 
St.  Jean,  under  the  supervision  of  eminent  professors.  The 
examinations  for  the  degree  of  doctor  of  medicine,  which 
were  going  on  during  my  visit,  are  conducted  with  great 
rigor — the  requirements,  like  those  in  Paris  and  in  Europe 
generally,  being  of  a  high  standard.  The  St.  Pierre  con- 
tains three  hundred  and  fifty  beds,  and  is  remarkable  for 
its  cleanliness  and  thorough  ventilation.  Dr.  De  Rue,  in 
charge  of  the  surgical  ward,  was  kind  enough  to  point  out 
to  me  many  cases  of  deep  interest.  I  had  felt  a  great  de- 
sire to  see  Professor  Uytterhoeven,  between  whom  and 
myself  some  letters  had  passed  several  years  previously ; 
but,  much  to  my  regret,  he  was  out  of  town.  I  was 
anxious  to  see  the  lithotomist  who  had  extracted  the  largest 
calculus  ever  removed  from  a  human  subject ;  and  although 
the  man  died  on  the  eighth  day  after  the  operation,  I 
have  always  considered  the  case  as  one  of  the  triumphs 
of  surgery.  It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  the  stone  weighed 
more  than  two  pounds,  and  that  it  was  nearly  seven  inches 
in  length  by  four  in  breadth,  and  nearly  two  and  a  half  in 
thickness.     It  was  extracted  by  the  suprapubic  method. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  objects  in  Brussels  to  a 
medical  man  is  the  bronze  statue  of  Vesalius,  erected  un- 
der the  auspices  of  Leopold  I. ,  in  the  Place  des  Barricades. 
The  figure  is  beautifully  posed,  and  is  arrayed  in  a  flowing 
robe,  with  pen  in  hand  and  a  folio  volume  under  the  left 
arm.  Underneath,  on  the  pedestal,  is  the  inscription : 
"  Andreoe  Vesalio,  Scientiae  Anatomise  Parenti :"  (To  An- 
drew Vesalius,  the  Father  of  the  Science  of  Anatomy.)  It 
is  an  honor  of  no  ordinary  character  that  a  king,  absorbed 
in  the  cares  and  duties  of  statecraft,  should  have  turned 
aside  to  prompt  the  erection  of  such  a  memorial  in  honor 
of  a  member  of  the  medical  profession.    The  history  of  Ve- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  269 

salius  is  remarkable.  Bom  at  Brussels  in  1514,  he  studied 
medicine  at  Ivouvain,  ]\Iontpellier,  and  Paris,  paying  espe- 
cial attention  to  the  structure  of  the  human  body,  of  which 
his  knowledge  was  so  vast  that  when  scarcely  twenty-six 
years  of  age,  he  was  appointed  professor  of  Anatomy  in  the 
University  of  Pavia,  from  which  he  was  soon  afterwards 
called  to  that  of  Bologna,  and  finally  to  that  of  Pisa.  In 
1543,  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight,  he  published  his  great 
work  on  anatomy,  entitled  De  Corporis  Humani  Fabrica, 
pronounced  by  Senac  as  the  discovery  of  a  new  world,  and 
by  Haller  as  an  immortal  production,  which  completely 
revolutionized  all  that  had  been  written  and  published 
upon  the  subject  The  story  of  his  residence  at  Madrid, 
v/here  he  was  physician  to  the  emperor,  Charles  V., 
and  afterwards  to  Philip  II.,  is  well  known.  Having, 
it  is  said,  opened  the  body  of  a  nobleman,  one  of  his 
patients,  he  found  to  his  own  horror,  as  well  as  to  the 
horror  of  those  around  him,  that  the  heart  was  still  pul- 
sating. The  report  was  at  once  carried  to  the  court ;  and 
thence  to  the  Inquisition,  which  denounced  him  as  guilty 
of  murder ;  and  it  was  only  through  the  intercession  of 
powerful  friends  that  his  life  was  spared,  and  then  only  on 
condition  that  he  should  perform  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy 
Land.  However  this  may  be,  a  story  at  best  of  a  very 
doubtful  character,  it  is  certain  that  he  visited  Jerusalem, 
and  that  on  his  return  he  died  of  starvation  in  the  island 
of  Zante,  as  is  generally  supposed,  the  vessel  on  which 
he  was  a  passenger  having  been  wTecked  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean. A  more  reasonable  conjecture,  I  think,  is  that 
he  went  to  the  Holy  lyand  of  his  own  accord,  being  incited 
thereto  by  his  roving,  restless  disposition,  combined  with 
a  strong  religious  sentiment  tinctured  with  a  spirit  of 
fanaticism  peculiar  to  the  period  in  which  he  lived.  His 
death  occurred  in  1564,  at  the  age  of  fifty  years. 

Brussels  was  at  one  time  largely  engaged  in  the  book- 
publishing  business.     Works  issued  in  Paris  were  exten- 


270    AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  SAMUEL  D.  GROSS,  M.  D. 

sively  reprinted,  and,  on  account  of  their  cheapness  from 
the  absence  of  copyright,  met  with  a  rapid  sale.  An 
appeal  by  the  authors,  whose  rights  were  thus  seriously 
infringed,  induced  the  French  government  to  put  a  stop 
to  the  practice  by  the  establishment  of  an  international 
law.  The  effect  of  this  wholesale  piracy  must  have  been 
highly  prejudicial  to  the  development  of  native  writers. 
Of  late  years  the  literature  of  Belgium  has  assumed  a  very 
creditable  rank  in  nearly  all  the  pursuits  of  life,  and  its 
Academy  of  Sciences  is  doing  a  great  deal  of  useful  work. 
I  must  not  forget  to  mention  that  before  leaving  for 
England  we  spent  a  most  charming  day  in  visiting  Water- 
loo, the  scene  of  the  great  battle  which  decided  the  fate 
of  Europe. 


CHAPTER    X. 

OXFORD— THE  MEETING  OF  THE  BRITISH  MEDICAL  ASSOCIATION — STRATFORD- 
ON-AVON — CAMBRIDGE — THE  UNIVERSITY — NORWICH — THE  BRITISH  ASSOCIA- 
TION FOR  THE  ADVANCEMENT  OF  SCIENCE — THE  NORFOLK  AND  NORWICH 
HOSPITAL  —  MR.  PARTRIDGE  —  LONDON  HOSPITALS  —  LEEDS  —  YORK  —  EDIN- 
BURGH— JAMES  SYME — JOHN  BROWN — SIR  JAMES  Y.  SIMPSON,  BART. — THE 
UNIVERSITY — GLASGOW — COURTS   OF  JUSTICE — NORMAN   MACLEOD. 

We  left  Brussels  on  Tuesday,  August  5th,  for  London, 
by  way  of  Calais.  The  Channel  was  crossed  in  two  hours 
on  a  miserable  little  boat,  but  as  the  sea  was  perfectly 
smooth  there  was  hardly  any  seasickness.  As  for  our- 
selves, we  escaped  completely,  notwithstanding  our  re- 
markable predisposition  to  it — a  circumstance  due  in  some 
degree  to  the  fact  that  we  remained  perfectly  quiet,  and 
for  the  most  part  recumbent  during  the  passage.  A 
great  crowd  awaited  us  at  the  wharf  at  Dover,  and  some 
time  elapsed  before  we  could  be  transferred  to  the  train. 
The  Chalk  Cliffs,  rising  several  hundred  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  water,  appeared  unique  and  interesting. 
The  track  was  bounded  on  each  side  for  many  miles 
by  immense  fields  of  hops,  cultivated  for  the  London 
breweries ;  but  as  we  neared  the  great  city  these  were 
replaced  by  fields  of  grain  and  vegetable  gardens  in  a 
high  state  of  improvement.  The  soil,  in  the  hop  region 
as  it  may  be  called,  is  underlaid  by  beds  of  chalk,  with 
frequent  outcroppings,  which  impart  to  the  surface  a  sin- 
gular aspect.  Soon  after  reaching  the  Victoria  Station  we 
took  the  train  for  Oxford,  where  we  arrived  at  half  past 
nine  in  the  evening.  As  I  was  a  delegate  to  the  British 
Medical  Association,  which  met  the  day  before,  I  imme- 
diately sent  my  card  to  Professor  Acland,  the  president, 

271 


2/2 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


wlio  in  his  reply  begged  me  to  join  the  Association  at 
breakfast,  at  eight  o'clock  the  next  morning,  in  one  of  the 
public  halls.  Upon  entering  I  found  nearly  all  the  seats 
of  the  large  room  occupied,  every  man  being  fully  intent 
upon  his  knife  and  fork.  The  entertainment,  viands  and 
all,  was  cold  and  formal,  without  conversation  or  hilarity, 
the  merest  matter  of  business  imaginable,  at  four  shillings 
a  head.  The  meeting  was  largely  attended — a  number  of 
prominent  Continental  and  American  physicians,  among 
others  J.  Marion  Sims  and  J.  Fordyce  Barker,  being  pres- 
ent. I  presented  my  credentials  in  due  form.  During  the 
morning  two  elaborate  papers  were  read — one,  the  address 
in  medicine,  by  Sir  William  Gull,  of  London ;  and  the 
other,  the  address  in  physiology,  by  Professor  George 
Rolleston,  of  Oxford.  The  opening  discourse,  by  Pro- 
fessor Acland,  had  been  delivered  the  day  before,  and  had 
elicited  much  applause.  The  Sections  were  well  organ- 
ized, and  performed  a  great  deal  of  useful  labor. 

The  same  day  I  dined  with  Dr.  Leighton,  the  Vice- 
Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  in  company  with 
a  number  of  distinguished  gentlemen,  such  as  Dr.  Locock, 
the  Queen's  accoucheur;  Professor  Syme,  of  Edinburgh; 
Mr.  Thomas  Curling,  Sir  James  Paget,  Professor  Acland, 
and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Liddell,  Dean  of  Christ  Church — in  all 
about  twenty.  There  were  many  dishes,  and  an  abun- 
dance of  choice  wine,  all  well  served.  The  conversation 
was  animated  and  discursive,  but  rather  staid,  as  per- 
haps became  the  occasion.  In  the  evening  I  attended 
an  immense  party  given  by  the  citizens  of  Oxford  to 
the  members  of  the  Medical  Association  at  the  newly- 
erected  Museum,  a  grand  edifice  surrounded  by  beau- 
tiful grounds.  There  must  have  been  present  fully 
fifteen  hundred  persons  of  both  sexes,  besides  many  dis- 
tinguished strangers.  The  hall  was  crowded  to  excess. 
Everybody  seemed  to  be  full  of  happiness.  The  re- 
freshments were  simple,   consisting  of  ice-cream,   water- 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  273 

ices,  and  cake,  enlivened  by  the  wassail-bowl,  charged 
with  claret  punch,  and  circulating  freely  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  a  custom  more  honored,  one  would  suppose,  in  the 
breach  than  in  the  observance.  The  occasion  was  one 
long  to  be  remembered.  Of  the  Museum  in  which  this 
meeting  took  place  mention  will  be  made  in  another  part 
of  the  volume. 

The  anniversary  dinner  of  the  Association  came  off  on 
Thursday  evening  in  the  great  banqueting  hall  of  Christ 
Church.  The  entertainment  was  rendered  particularly 
dignified  and  impressive  by  the  old  pictures  hung  every- 
where upon  the  walls,  and  representing  many  of  the  dig- 
nitaries in  church,  in  state,  and  in  literature  of  bygone 
days.  Professor  Acland  occupied  the  chair,  and  in  a  few 
remarks,  after  the  cloth  was  removed,  referred  in  handsome 
terms  to  the  foreign  delegates.  I  had  the  good  fortune  to 
be  seated  upon  the  platfonn  next  to  Sir  James  Paget,  and 
immediately  opposite  Professor  J.  Hughes  Bennett,  of  Ed- 
inburgh, the  author  of  the  celebrated  treatise  on  clinical 
medicine.  A  number  of  speeches  were  made,  most  of 
them  concise  and  in  good  taste.  The  best  of  all  was 
that  of  Sir  James  Paget,  one  of  the  most  ready  and  felici- 
tous speakers  I  have  ever  listened  to.  As  the  senior  of 
the  American  delegates,  it  devolved  upon  me  to  reply  to 
the  toast  offered  by  the  chair  in  honor  of  our  profession, 
a  duty  which  I  performed  with  much  diffidence,  sur- 
rounded as  I  was  by  so  august  and  learned  an  assembly. 
During  my  remarks  I  spoke  of  the  efforts  that  we  were 
making  to  establish  a  national  medical  literature,  and  to 
the  obligations  we  were  formerly  under  in  this  and  other 
matters  to  our  European  brethren.  As  I  proceeded  I  heard 
' '  Hear  !  hear  !  !  "  on  every  side,  and  I  was  happy  to  find 
that  my  little  speech  was  well  received.  In  the  exercises 
of  the  evening  were  included  songs  from  a  choir,  in 
which  many  of  the  company  joined  ;  and  the  hilarity  was 
kept  up  until  a  late  hour  of  the  night,  every  one  going 
1—35 


274  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

away  well  satisfied  with  himself  and  with  the  occasion. 
Not  fewer  than  two  hundred  and  fifty  sat  down  at  table, 
each  paying  a  guinea.  Among  the  distinguished  gentle- 
men present  were  William  Stokes,  of  Dublin,  Locock, 
Syme,  Sir  William  R.  Wilde,  and  the  venerable  Dr.  Jelf, 
formerly  Principal  of  King's  College,  London,  with  many 
of  the  more  prominent  younger  members  of  the  English, 
Scotch,  and  Irish  profession. 

On  Friday  evening  I  had  the  pleasure  of  dining  with 
Dr.  Church,  a  Fellow  of  one  of  the  colleges,  and  one  of  the 
physicians  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Hospital,  a  gentleman 
rapidly  rising  in  his  profession.  The  company  was  small, 
and  among  the  guests  were  Duchesne,  of  Bologne,  the 
writer  on  nervous  diseases ;  Professor  Rolleston ;  and  Dr. 
Victor  Cams,  of  Dresden.  It  was  near  midnight  when  we 
found  ourselves  on  the  way  to  our  lodgings,  the  evening 
having^  been  a  most  charming-  one. 

From  Dr.  Rolleston,  the  Professor  of  Physiology  in  the 
University,  we  received  much  kind  attention.  He  lives  in 
a  beautiful  and  retired  part  of  Oxford,  in  an  elegant  house, 
surrounded  by  large  and  pleasant  grounds,  and  furnished 
with  a  choice  library.  His  amiable  and  excellent  wife  is 
the  daughter  of  Dr.  John  Davy,  and  a  niece  of  the  great 
Sir  Humphry. 

Having  spent  six  days  very  pleasantly  at  Oxford,  we 
next  wei;t  to  Leamington,  a  ride  of  two  hours  by  rail,  in- 
tending on  the  morrow  to  visit  Warwick  Castle,  Kenil- 
worth,  and  Stratford -on -Avon,  the  birthplace  of  the 
"deer-stalker."  The  sun  rose  bright  and  beautiful,  and 
after  an  early  breakfast  we  were  soon  on  our  way  to  visit 
scenes  with  which  we  had  been  acquainted  through  reading 
alone.  Everything  pertaining  to  these  places  is  replete 
with  interest  and  instruction,  but  to  attempt  any  connected 
narrative  of  them  after  the  numerous  accounts  that  have 
been  published  would  be  absurd.  Warwick  is  well  worth 
a  visit,  if  it  were  only  to  look  at  its  many  splendid  paint- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  275 

ings  by  some  of  the  great  masters  of  the  seventeenth  and 
early  part  of  the  eighteenth  centuries ;  and  Kenihvorth, 
as  everybody  knows,  has  been  sung  in  poetry  and  immor- 
talized in  prose.  It  is  a  grand  old  relic,  whose  broken, 
iv>^-covered  walls  alone  remain  to  remind  one  of  its  former 
greatness  and  diversified  fortunes.  The  day  was  still  young 
when  we  reached  Stratford-on-Avon,  and  after  refreshing 
ourselves  at  the  famous  Red  Horse,  the  principal  hotel, 
we  sauntered  forth  to  take  a  look  at  the  house  in  which 
Shakespeare  first  saw  the  light.  The  entrance  fee  was  six- 
pence for  each.  What  interested  us  most  was  the  inscrip- 
tions of  the  names  of  visitors  on  the  walls  and  on  the  low 
ceilings,  grouped  so  closely  together  in  most  places  as  to 
leave  hardly  anywhere  a  white  spot  the  size  of  a  grain  of 
wheat.  It  seems  as  if  every  fool  that  comes  along  must 
leave  his  mark,  and  America  is  not  behind  the  rest  of  the 
w^orld  in  this  respect.  Shakespeare  died  in  April,  1616, 
and  was  buried  in  the  chancel  of  the  little  church  near  the 
bank  of  the  Avon.  The  stone  placed  over  his  grave  bears 
the  following  inscription : 

"  Good  frend  for  Jesus  sake  forbeare, 
to  digg  t-e  dust  encloased  heare  : 

BlESTE  be  -  MAN  -  SPARES  THES  STONES, 
Y  Y 

And  curst  be  he  -  moves  my  bones." 

Y 

One  can  hardly  suppose  that  this  injunction  of  the 
great  poet  was  dictated  by  fear  of  falling  into  the  hands 
of  the  resurrectionists.  Anatomy  was  little  cultivated 
in  that  day,  and  such  men  as  body-snatchers  were  un- 
known. * 


*  In  1883  an  attempt  was  made  to  obtain  possession  of  Shakespeare's  skull 
with  a  view  of  forming  some  estimate  of  the  size  of  his  brain,  and  the  effort,  so 
degrading  in  its  character,  was  foiled  only  by  the  interference  of  the  mayor  and 
town  council  of  Stratford. 


276  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

The  Red  Horse  is  now  familiarly  known  as  the  Wash- 
ington Irving  Hotel,  from  the  fact  that  the  author  of  The 
Sketch  Book  spent  some  days  there.  In  the  parlor  is  the 
arm-chair  in  which  he  sat  while  a  guest  in  the  house  ;  his 
name  engraved  on  a  brass  plate.  Another  object  of  in- 
terest is  the  poker  with  which  he  stirred  the  coal  in  the 
grate. 

The  next  objective  point  of  our  tour  was  Cambridge, 
and  we  were  fortunate  on  reaching  Oxford  to  find  that  v\'e 
should  have  Professor  Humphry  of  the  former  city  as  our 
travelling  companion.  Our  ride  extended  over  a  countr}' 
of  no  special  interest,  and  we  were  glad  when  we  reached 
our  lodgings  at  the  famous  Bull,  the  principal  hotel  of 
Cambridge.  The  day  after  our  arrival  we  dined  with  Dr. 
Humphry  and  his  family  at  his  country^  residence  a  mile 
beyond  the  town,  and  had  a  delightful  evening,  diversified 
by  conversation  and  music.  The  doctor  is  Professor  of 
Anatomy,  human  and  comparative,  in  the  University,  and 
Lecturer  on  Clinical  Surger}'  at  Addenbroke  Hospital,  so 
called  in  honor  of  its  founder.  It  was  opened  in  1770,  sup- 
ports one  hundred  and  thirty  beds,  and  is  beautifully  situ- 
ated on  the  main  street.  The  front  yard  is  adorned  with 
shrubbery  and  flowers,  and  ever>'thing  about  and  within  it 
indicates  care  and  neatness.  Dr.  Humphry  showed  me 
through  his  wards,  and  pointed  out  to  me  many  cases  of 
interest.  His  treatment  is  characterized  by  simplicity. 
He  gives  very  little  medicine,  and  he  possesses  great  judg- 
ment and  dexterity  as  an  operator.  He  has  had  forty-nine 
resections  of  joints.  He  mentioned  to  me  a  case  in 
which  he  cut  a  man  five  times  for  stone  in  the  bladder. 
A  sixth  operation  was  performed  upon  this  patient  at 
Norwich,  but  with  a  fatal  result.  He  often  applies  no 
dressings  whatever  to  wounds  made  in  operations,  trusting 
altogether  to  drainage  and  cleanliness  for  success. 

The  medical  school  of  Cambridge,  like  that  of  Oxford, 
is  very  small,  the  number  of  pupils  hardly  reaching  thirty 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  277 

annually.  This  is  due  to  the  overwhelming  competition 
of  the  London  colleges.  Most  of  the  Cambridge  students 
are  University  graduates,  and  very  few  of  them  remain 
longer  than  one  year,  at  the  end  of  which  they  go 
to  some  metropolitan  school  to  attend  the  hospitals  and 
to  take  their  degrees.  The  Anatomical  Museum  con- 
tains many  valuable  preparations  of  healthy  and  morbid 
structure,  the  former  having  lately  been  augmented  by 
the  collections  of  Dr.  MacCartney,  of  Dublin,  and  Dr. 
Robert  Lee,  of  London.  The  specimens  of  Dr.  Lee  com- 
prise the  elaborate  dissections  of  the  nerves  of  the  heart 
and  of  the  uterus,  in  the  preparation  of  which  that  gentle- 
man spent  many  of  the  best  years  of  his  life. 

The  great  attraction  of  Cambridge  is  of  course  its  Uni- 
versity, made  up  of  seventeen  colleges  and  halls.  Of  these 
colleges  Trinity,  "the  noblest  institution  of  the  kind  in 
the  kingdom,  if  not  in  the  w^orld,"  was  founded  by  Henry 
VIII.  in  1546,  and  has  educated  some  of  the  greatest 
scholars,  statesmen,  philosophers,  poets,  prelates,  and 
scientists  in  Great  Britain,  such  as  Newton,  Bacon, 
Raleigh,  Dr}'den,  Barrow,  Porson,  Byron,  Macaulay,  Pea- 
cock, Sedgwick,  Whewell,  and  Tennyson.  The  building 
is  arranged  in  the  form  of  a  quadrangle,  and  occupies 
an  immense  space.  The  origin  of  the  University,  accord- 
ing to  some  writers,  dates  as  far  back  as  630 ;  but  this  is 
probably  a  mistake,  as  the  oldest  college,  Peterholme,  was 
not  opened  until  1257.  The  University  Library,  a  beau- 
tiful edifice,  contains  about  four  hundred  thousand  vol- 
umes, with  a  great  number  of  manuscripts,  and  is  said  to 
be  particularly  rich  in  early  English  works.  Its  interior 
is  adorned  by  a  number  of  busts  of  illustrious  men,  and 
by  a  beautiful  statue  of  Byron,  which  is  famous  alike  as 
a  work  of  art  and  as  having  been  rejected  by  the  Uni- 
versity of  Oxford  on  account  of  his  lordship's  supposed 
immoral  character. 

Cambridge  is  situated  on  the   river   Cam,   whence   its 


278  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

name,  and  is  embosomed  in  stately  trees,  which  almost 
conceal  it  from  the  surrounding  country.  It  has  a  popu- 
lation of  about  thirty  thousand.  Besides  its  college  build- 
ings it  has  a  splendid  Senate  House  for  the  use  of  the 
University,  and  the  Fitzwilliam  Museum,  which  contains 
valuable  pictures  and  a  collection  of  antique  marbles, 
plaster-casts,  coins,  manuscripts,  and  other  objects  of 
interest  well  worthy  of  a  protracted  visit. 

In  walking  through  the  suburbs  of  this  beautiful  town 
one  afternoon  my  attention  was  attracted  by  a  large  en- 
graving which,  upon  further  inspection,  proved  to  be  a  rare 
print  illustrative  of  the  Revolution  of  Paris  in  1793.  The 
owner  asked  six  shillings,  which  I  promptly  paid,  for  what 
I  justly  considered  a  treasure.  It  represents  some  of 
the  scenes  which  occurred  when  the  canaille  of  Paris 
broke  into  the  wine-cellars  of  the  wealthy  citizens,  and 
drank  to  such  excess  that,  in  their  wild  delirium,  they 
poured  the  liquor  into  one  another's  throats,  hung  one 
another  to  lamp-posts,  and  chopped  off  one  another's  heads. 

The  distance  by  rail  from  Cambridge  to  Norwich  is  two 
hours.  The  country  between  the  two  cities  is  a  flat  agri- 
cultural district,  abounding  in  Southdown  sheep  with 
black  faces  and  in  ordinary  cattle.  We  passed  Ely,  the 
see  of  the  bishop  of  that  name,  and  saw  many  windmills, 
which  became  more  numerous  as  we  approached  our  des- 
tination. Norwich,  with  a  population  of  eighty  thousand, 
is  the  capital  of  Norfolk  County,  and  is  situated  on  the 
river  Wensum  near  its  junction  with  the  Yare.  The  site 
is  very  hilly,  and  the  streets  are  short  and  narrow.  The 
evening  of  our  arrival  was  signalized  by  the  opening 
meeting  of  the  British  Association  for  the  Advancement 
of  Science  in  the  large  town  hall  in  the  presence  of  an 
immense  audience,  the  retiring  president,  the  Duke  of 
Buccleugh,  occupying  the  chair.  His  grace  made  a  dull, 
stupid  address.  He  was  followed  by  Dr.  Hooker,  the 
president-elect,  in  an  elaborate  and  learned  paper,  miser- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  279 

ably  read.  A  great  deal  of  interest  was  manifested  in  the 
meeting,  which  extended  over  four  days.  More  than  forty 
Continental  delegates  were  present,  and  much  good  work 
was  done  in  the  different  Sections.  The  old  city  was  ar- 
rayed in  holiday  garb ;  and  booths  and  tents,  filled  with 
countr\'  produce  and  all  kinds  of  knickknacks,  were  seen 
in  every  direction. 

Norwich  is  famous  for  its  Hospital,  known  as  the  Nor- 
folk and  Norwich.  It  was  opened  in  1772,  and  is  cele- 
brated on  account  of  the  great  number  of  calculous  pa- 
tients admitted  into  its  wards.  It  is  situated  upon  a  small 
eminence,  on  fine  grounds,  and  is  one  of  the  neatest  estab- 
lishments of  the  kind  imaginable.  The  beds  are  each 
provided  with  a  foot  and  side  drawer,  the  latter  being  on 
the  right  side,  near  the  head,  an  arrangement  affording 
great  convenience.  The  museum  connected  with  the  hos- 
pital is  a  model  of  its  kind,  not  large  but  very  neat,  and 
kept  in  the  best  order.  The  walls  are  adorned  by  por- 
traits of  Dalr}'mple  and  Crosse,  the  famous  lithotomists, 
the  latter  of  whom  immortalized  himself  by  his  excellent 
treatise  on  Stone  in  the  Bladder.  Both  of  these  men  were 
dexterous  operators.  The  collection  of  calculi  exceeds  one 
thousand  specimens,  the  product  of  nearly  that  number  of 
operations  ;  these  are  well  preserved,  carefully  labelled,  and 
placed  in  appropriate  cases  with  glass  doors.  The  largest 
calculus  in  the  collection  weighs  fifteen  ounces ;  it  was  re- 
moved by  Hamer,  and  is  described  and  figured  in  Gooch's 
Surgery.  The  patient  recovered.  There  is  another  of  six 
ounces,  of  an  ovoidal  shape,  which  was  expelled  spon- 
taneously from  the  bladder  through  the  vagina,  and  was 
followed  by  recovery.  I  was  shown  a  specimen  of  cystic 
calculus,  formed  upon  a  small  oxalate  of  lime  nucleus ;  it 
was  of  very  soft  consistence,  and  readily  crumbled  under 
pressure.  The  man  was  thirty-three  years  old,  and  had 
been  subject  to  attacks  of  cystic  hemorrhage ;  the  disease 
recurred,  and  another  operation  was  performed  four  years 


28o  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

after  the  first.  There  is  a  specimen  of  hypertrophied  pros- 
tate gland,  weighing  twenty  ounces.  The  patient,  an  old 
man,  was  in  the  habit  of  relieving  himself  with  the  cath- 
eter, and  one  day  he  pushed  the  instrument  behind  the 
enlarged  organ,  between  it  and  the  rectum,  causing  infil- 
tration of  urine  and  death.  The  collection  is  rich  in  speci- 
mens of  all  kinds  of  renal  and  vesical  disease. 

Two  days  after  my  arrival  at  Nor\vich  I  was  invited, 
with  Sir  James  Y.  Simpson,  J.  Hughes  Bennett,  Broca, 
Baker,  Humphry,  and  others,  to  witness  three  opera- 
tions for  stone  at  the  Hospital — one  by  Mr.  Nicholls  on  a 
boy  nine  years  of  age ;  and  the  other  two  by  Mr.  Cadge 
on  old  men.  One  of  the  latter  was  cut  by  the  median 
method ;  the  stone,  which  was  fully  two  inches  in  length, 
was  brought  away  easily,  but  the  wound  bled,  and  had  to 
be  plugged.  In  the  other  case  of  Mr.  Cadge  the  stone  was 
very  brittle,  and  broke  into  numerous  fragments,  thus 
prolonging  the  operation.  Lister's  tube  was  used  in  all 
the  cases  except  the  boy's  to  conduct  off  the  urine  and  pre- 
vent spasm.  Both  operators  used  narrow-bladed  knives. 
All  the  patients,  although  fully ,  chloroformed,  were  tied, 
for  what  reason  I  was  unable  to  ascertain.  Mr.  Nicholls 
and  Mr.  Cadge,  the  latter  a  pupil  and  former  assistant  of 
Robert  Liston,  have  each  operated  nearly  one  hundred 
times  with  great  success.  Mr.  Cadge  occasionally  per- 
forms lithotrity,  but  never  upon  children.  He  has  re- 
peatedly practised  median  lithotomy ;  the  largest  calculus 
which  he  has  removed  by  this  method  weighed  four  ounces 
and  three-quarters.  The  patient,  aged  sixty-three,  recov- 
ered with  a  rectal  fistula.  The  first  operation  for  stone  in 
the  Hospital  was  performed  by  JNIr,  Donne  in  1772,  very 
soon  after  the  institution  was  opened. 

Nearly  all  the  calculous  patients  heretofore  admitted 
into  this  Hospital  were  from  Norfolk  and  Suffolk  counties, 
especially  from  the  former ;  and  most  of  them  were  adults 
and  elderly  persons.    These  counties  lie  along  the  seacoast, 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,    M.  D.  281 

and  are  underlaid  with  chalk.  The  air  is  very  raw  and 
damp,  especially  in  winter ;  and  rheumatism  is  a  prevalent 
complaint.  IMany  of  the  inhabitants  habituall}-  void  litliic 
acid. 

During  my  sojourn  in  this  good  old  town  I  dined  with 
Mr.  Nicholls  in  company  w^ith  Broca,  Baker,  Bennett, 
Hughlings  Jackson,  Richardson,  Rolleston,  Bateman,  Rob- 
ertson, and  others,  a  large  and  intellectual  company ; 
lunched  with  jMr.  and  Mrs.  Cadge,  a  cousin  of  the  Quains 
of  London  ;  and  breakfasted  with  Dr.  Bateman,  one  of  the 
physicians  to  the  Norfolk  and  Non,vich  Hospital.  I  had 
met  most  of  the  gentlemen  who  were  present  at  the  Nich- 
olls's  dinner  the  day  preceding.  I  attended  a  dinner  at 
Dr.  Eades's  ;  and  a  breakfast  was  given  to  me  by  Mr. 
Allen,  whom  I  had  met  shortly  before  at  Oxford.  In 
fact,  I  never  experienced  greater  hospitality  anywhere. 
The  physicians  and  citizens  vied  with  one  another  to 
entertain  their  visitors. 

From  the  list  of  professional  gentlemen  of  London 
to  whom  I  was  indebted  for  much  kindness  in  1868,  I 
must  not  omit  the  name  of  Mr.  Partridge,  Professor  of 
Anatomy  in  King's  College,  and  one  of  the  surgeons  of 
King's  College  Hospital,  a  genial,  pleasant  gentleman,  of 
courtly  manners  and  great  intelligence.  In  stature  Mr. 
Partridge  is  about  the  middle  height,  with  black  eyes,  a 
gentle  expression  of  countenance,  and  a  head  not  indica- 
tive of  great  intellect.  As  a  lecturer,  he  is  popular  but 
not  brilliant,  and  always  commands  the  attention  of  his 
pupils.  He  has  contributed  numerous  papers  to  the  med- 
ical press;  and  his  articles  in  Todd's  Cyclopedia  of  Anat- 
omy and  Physiology  are  all  able  productions,  mostly  of 
an  exhaustive  nature.  Mr.  Partridge  was  one  of  the  sur- 
geons who  went  to  Italy  to  examine  Garibaldi's  ankle 
which  had  received  a  gunshot  wound  at  the  battle  of  Aspro- 
monte  in  1862.  His  attendants,  unable  to  find  the  ball 
or  to  heal  the  wound,  had  abandoned  the  case  in  despair. 
1-36 


282  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

Mr.  Partridge  was  equally  unsuccessful  in  liis  search,  and 
was  so  unfortunate  as  to  express  his  conviction  that  no  ball 
was  present.  The  friends  of  Garibaldi,  not  being  satisfied 
with  the  views  of  the  English  surgeon,  sent  for  Nelaton. 
This  gentleman,  who  stood  at  the  head  of  the  surgical 
profession  in  Paris,  before  setting  out  upon  his  mission 
consulted  an  eminent  French  chemist  to  ascertain  whether 
it  were  possible  to  devise  an  instrument  which,  when 
rubbed  against  lead,  would  receive  the  characteristic  stain 
of  that  metal.  The  result  was  the  now  famous  porcelain 
probe — that  is,  a  metallic  rod  tipped  with  this  substance. 
Upon  introducing  this  instrument  into  the  bottom  of  the 
wound,  and  rotating  it  roughly  upon  its  axis,  the  operator 
was  delighted  to  find,  upon  withdrawing  it,  a  bluish  spot 
upon  the  porcelain  knob,  clearly  denotive  of  the  existence 
of  the  long-lost  missile.  The  sinus  was  at  once  enlarged, 
and  the  ball  extracted.  The  operation  was  followed  by  a 
rapid  cure,  with  of  course  permanent  anchylosis  of  the 
affected  joint.  Thus,  what  one  man  gained  in  reputation 
the  other  lost ;  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  Mr. 
Partridge  never  entirely  recovered  from  the  effects  of  his 
blunder.  The  Frenchman,  as  might  have  been  expected, 
went  home  elated,  with  an  additional  ell  to  his  stature, 
and  thenceforth  the  name  of  Nelaton  was  in  the  mouth  of 
everybody. 

One  afternoon  late  in  August,  Mr.  Partridge  was  kind 
enough  to  call  for  me  at  my  lodgings  to  drive  me  to 
Shooter's  Hill,  six  miles  from  London,  to  examine  the 
Herbert  Military  Hospital,  erected  by  Sir  Sidney  Herbert 
during  his  connection  with  the  British  cabinet  as  Secretary 
of  War.  The  hospital,  arranged  on  the  pavilion  plan,  is 
a  fine  structure,  erected  at  great  cost,  and  provided  with 
six  hundred  beds,  designed  exclusively  for  the  accom- 
modation of  sick  and  disabled  soldiers.  The  grounds  are 
large  and  attractive ;  the  wards  are  thoroughly  ventilated 
and  kept  in  perfect  order ;  and  everything  indicates  the 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  283 

care  bestowed  by  a  great  nation  upon  its  defenders.  The 
hospital  is  a  monument  alike  to  the  memory  of  Sir  Sidney 
Herbert  and  to  the  munificence  of  the  British  government. 

I  met  with  ]\Ir.  Partridge  again  in  August,  1872,  at 
Birmingham,  during  the  sitting  of  the  British  Medical 
Association.  He  sat  with  me  upon  the  platform,  and 
looked  as  well  as  I  had  ever  seen  him,  but  he  took  no 
part  in  the  proceedings.  Some  time  after  my  return,  I 
learned  that  he  was  in  declining  health,  and  not  long 
afterwards  that  he  had  died.  Judging  from  his  appear- 
ance, he  must  have  been  my  senior  by  at  least  six  or  seven 
years. 

From  ]Mr.  Henry  Smith,  author  of  a  small  work  on  the 
Rectum,  I  received  many  courtesies  during  my  sojourn  in 
London,  repeatedly  meeting  him  at  his  own  house  at 
King's  College  Hospital,  of  which  he  is  one  of  the  sur- 
geons. I  saw  him  perform  a  number  of  operations,  among 
others  lithotomy.  I  was  struck  with  the  ability  with  which 
he  used  the  knife.  On  one  occasion  he  brought  before 
the  class  a  lad  with  stone  in  the  bladder.  Previously  to 
cutting  him  he  introduced  the  sound,  but  he  was  unable 
to  find  the  stone,  although  he  had  several  times  detected  it 
before.  He  handed  the  instrument  to  me  and  to  one  or  two 
others ;  but  as  we  equally  failed,  the  boy  was  sent  avv^ay 
until  the  following  Saturday,  when  the  concretion  being 
found,  he  was  successfully  lithotomized.  Mr.  John  Wood, 
another  of  the  surgeons,  since  appointed  as  Fergusson's  suc- 
cessor, I  also  saw  several  times,  and  I  witnessed  one  of  his 
operations,  now  numbering  more  than  one  hundred,  for  the 
radical  cure  of  hernia,  in  the  treatment  of  which  he  has 
earned  great  reputation,  although  the  operation  must,  I 
doubt  not,  from  its  very  nature,  be  followed  by  many  re- 
lapses. I  was  surprised  to  find  at  this  and  other  London 
hospitals  a  can  of  hot  water  still  in  use  for  warming  adhe- 
sive plaster.  On  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  the  practice  has 
been   long   discontinued — alcohol    or    chlorofonn   applied 


284  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

upon  a  sponge  having  taken  its  place.  In  this  way  the 
plaster  is  instantly  softened,  and  the  patient  incurs  no  risk 
of  being  scalded,  as  he  was  by  the  old  method. 

At  Guy's  Hospital  I  was  kindly  received  by  Messrs. 
Cock,  Hilton,  Bryant,  and  Le  Gros  Clark,  the  last  of 
whom  took  special  pains  to  show  me  the  surgical  wards, 
the  lecture-rooms,  and  the  grand  museum,  illustrated  by 
the  labors  of  Sir  Astley  Cooper,  Hodgin,  and  a  host  of 
able  and  enthusiastic  workers  in  the  interest  of  healthy  and 
morbid  anatomy.  The  collections  are  especially  rich  in 
preparations  of  the  different  varieties  of  hernia,  fractures, 
and  dislocations,  and  of  afifections  of  the  mammary  gland. 
Clark  has  added  many  interesting  dissections  of  the  descent 
of  the  testis,  and  Br}'ant  numerous  specimens  removed 
from  the  living  subject  with  his  knife.  At  the  time  of  my 
visit.  Cock  had  opened  the  bladder  through  the  perineum 
iipwards  of  forty  times  for  retention  of  urine.  Truly  a 
really  skilful  surgeon  might  have  done  better  than  this ! 
The  old  hospital  building  has  a  dirty,  dilapidated  appear- 
ance, wnth  low  ceilings,  and  should  be  replaced  by  a  new 
one.  The  annual  income  of  the  institution  is  nearly  half 
a  million  of  dollars.  A  bronze  statue  of  Guy  stands  in 
the  front  yard  of  the  hospital. 

We  bade  adieu  to  London  on  the  8th  of  September,  and 
took  the  train  for  Leeds,  where  we  arrived  at  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon.  The  day  was  cold  and  cloudy,  and  the 
country  through  which  we  passed  not  particularly  inviting 
to  a  stranger.  I  had  been  induced  to  visit  Leeds  mainly  at 
the  instance  of  Mr.  Nunnelly,  the  eminent  surgeon,  whose 
acquaintance  I  had  formed  at  Oxford  at  the  meeting  of 
the  British  Medical  Association,  and  with  whose  writings 
and  reputation  I  had  long  been  familiar.  His  work  on 
Erj'sipelas,  the  ablest  ever  published  on  the  subject,  had 
served  to  make  his  name  widely  known  in  the  United 
States.  The  occasion  of  my  visit  was  rendered  the  more 
interesting  by  the  fact  that  the  town  was  full  of  strangers 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  285 

attracted  thither  by  a  great  fair  held  for  the  benefit  of  the 
Leeds  Hospital,  an  immense  establishment,  erected  at  an 
expense  of  nearly  one  million  of  dollars.  No  pains  had 
been  spared  to  render  the  fair,  which  was  held  in  the  new 
edifice,  a  success,  and  yet,  while  it  was  perfect  in  all 
its  details,  it  was,  I  was  told,  pecuniarily  a  failure.  Many 
of  the  finest  paintings  in  the  kingdom  w^ere  on  exhibi- 
tion, and  the  display  of  water-colors  by  Turner  and  his 
school  was  indeed  most  beautiful.  Halle,  the  morning 
after  our  arrival,  gave  a  grand  concert,  which  was  largely 
attended  by  a  select  audience.  During  the  day  Mr.  Nun- 
nelly  exsected  a  mammary  gland,  an  operation  in  which, 
instead  of  ligatures,  he  used  small  compressing  forceps  for 
arresting  the  flow  of  blood,  four  of  the  instruments  being  re- 
tained in  the  wound  to  be  removed  at  the  end  of  forty-eight 
hours.  He  informed  me  that  he  had  adopted  this  plan 
for  several  years,  in  nearly  all  cases  involving  extensive 
dissection,  and  that  the  results  had  been  highly  flattering. 
In  the  afternoon  he  drove  me  through  the  town,  and 
showed  me,  among  other  objects  of  interest,  the  Leeds 
Medical  School,  one  of  the  best  provincial  colleges  in 
England.  The  building,  although  small,  was  well  ar- 
ranged and  well  equipped,  and  seemed  to  be  well  adapted 
to  its  purposes.  We  also  visited  the  old  Infirmar}^  the 
scene  for  so  many  years  of  the  labors  and  achievements 
of  the  elder  Hey  and  of  the  elder  Teale,  men  whose 
mantles  rest  gracefully  upon  the  shoulders  of  their  sons. 
Bidding  farewell  to  IMr.  Nunnelly  and  his  family,  we  left 
Leeds,  after  a  sojourn  of  two  days,  for  Edinburgh,  stopping 
on  our  way  to  take  a  glance  at  the  ancient  city  of  York, 
so  interesting  on  account  of  its  numerous  historical  associa- 
tions, its  grand  cathedral  founded  in  625,  Clifford's  Tower, 
the  ruins  of  St.  INIary's  Abbey,  and  its  pretty  museum 
filled  with  various  Roman  and  Saxon  remains.  Here  we 
again  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Acland, 
who,  like  ourselves,  were  engaged  in  examining  the  con- 


286  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

tents  of  this  old  curiosity  shop,  as  York,  from  the  great 
variety  of  its  ancient  treasures,  may  not  inappropriately 
be  called.  The  day  was  delicious,  and  we  enjoyed  every 
moment  of  it. 

We  reached  Edinburgh  at  early  twilight,  Friday,  Sep- 
tember loth,  and  took  lodgings  at  the  Edinburgh  Hotel, 
Princes  Street,  near  the  station.  My  first  object  the  next 
morning  was  to  call  upon  Mr.  Syme,  the  celebrated  sur- 
geon, whose  acquaintance  I  had  made  at  Oxford  nearly 
two  months  previously.  Fortunately  he  was  already  in 
his  consulting-room.  As  the  servant  opened  the  door  he 
was  standing  with  his  back  toward  a  large  fire — for  the 
morning  was  unusually  chilly  for  the  season — evidently 
absorbed  in  deep  meditation ;  but  the  moment  he  espied 
me  he  approached  and  extended  his  hand,  cordially 
welcoming  me  to  Edinburgh.  After  an  interchange  of  a 
few  civilities  Mr.  Syme  said,  "Dr.  Gross,  what  are  your 
plans  for  to-day  ? "  In  reply  I  said,  ' '  I  have  come  to 
Edinburgh  to  pay  you  my  respects  and  to  see  you  perform 
some  operations,  to  inspect  the  more  interesting  objects  in 
your  beautiful  city,  and  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the 
author  of  Rab  and  His  Friends."  "Very  well ;  tell  Mrs. 
Gross  I  shall  be  at  your  hotel  at  twelve  o'clock  to  drive 
you  round  Arthur's  Seat ;  and  if  you  will  dine  with  me  at 
six  o'clock  this  evening  you  shall  see  the  author  of  Rab 
and  His  Friends. ' '  Punctually,  almost  to  the  minute,  the 
carriage,  drawn  by  two  beautiful  gray  horses,  with  a  servant 
in  livery,  was  at  the  door  of  the  hotel.  The  next  three 
hours  were  spent  in  pleasant  drives  and  delightful  conver- 
sation, Mr.  Syme  taking  particular  pains  to  point  out  to 
us  every  object  worthy  of  notice,  especially  the  ruins  of 
Holyrood  Abbey,  with  whose  melancholy  historical  asso- 
ciations we  had  of  course  been  long  familiar,  but  which, 
now  that  we  stood  upon  the  very  spot  itself,  were  invested 
with  new  and  increased  interest. 

The  dinner  hour  having  arrived,  we  found  ourselves  at 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  287 

Millbank,  the  county  residence  of  the  great  surgeon,  two 
miles  from  Edinburgh,  in  a  beautiful  and  quiet  spot,  situ- 
ated upon  a  sloping  hill,  laid  off  in  well-arranged  terraces, 
ornamented  with  trees  and  shrubber}^,  and  furnished  with 
ample  conservatories.  Dr.  John  Brown  had  already  arrived, 
and  the  conversation  at  once  assumed  a  free  and  easy  char- 
acter, without  any  of  the  restraint  so  common  even  among 
well-bred  persons  who  are  brought  together  for  the  first 
time.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Syme  presided  with  dignity,  and  the 
tw-o  hours  during  which  we  sat  at  the  table  passed  rapidly 
and  pleasantly.  Dr.  Brown  was  quite  agreeable,  and  con- 
versed fluently  upon  a  variety  of  subjects,  but  without  any 
brilliancy,  wit,  or  humor.  He  was,  in  fact,  rather  sedate 
than  otheruase,  as  if  he  might  have  been  somewhat  jaded 
by  the  labors  of  the  day  ;  he  talked  well,  and  nothing  more. 
In  stature  he  is  nearly  six  feet,  rather  stout,  with  a  lofty  but 
too  receding  forehead,  and  a  countenance  literally  beaming 
with  benevolence.  He  well  deser\-es  the  title  of  ' '  Good 
Doctor  John,"  by  which  he  is  generally  known  among  the 
poorer  classes  of  Edinburgh,  many  of  whom  he  attends, 
pay  or  no  pay. 

The  story  of  Rab  and  His  Friends  has  been  widely 
read  and  much  admired,  and  has  made  the  name  of  John 
Brown  familiar  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic.  A  beau- 
tifully illustrated  edition  of  it  was  issued  some  years 
ago  in  Boston.  It  is  said  that  the  entire  story  was  com- 
posed at  one  sitting,  and  I  can  readily  believe  the  state- 
ment ;  for  a  man  who  could  write  so  prettily  must  have 
been  brimful  of  his  subject.  Altogether  it  is  one  of  the 
most  pathetic  and  interesting  books  in  the  English  lan- 
guage, written  in  a  style  at  once  elevated  and  vivid. 
No  one  can  read  it  without  feelings  of  admiration  for  the 
noble  dog,  the  warmest  respect  for  James,  and  the  deep- 
est sympathy  for  poor  Ailie.  The  surgeon  who  figures 
in  the  story  is  no  other  than  Mr.  Syme,  John  Brown's 
preceptor   and   particular   friend.      Before   leaving   Edin- 


288  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

burgh  the  author  kindly  called  at  our  lodgings  with  a  copy 
of  this  work  inscribed,  "Mrs.  Gross,  with  the  author's 
compliments,  September,  1868."  Dr.  Brown  has  written 
many  stories  besides  Rab  and  His  Friends,  but  none  which 
have  been  more  admired,  or  which  display  a  finer  literary 
taste  or  more  happy  descriptive  powers.  His  collected 
writings  are  comprised,  for  the  most  part,  in  his  Horce 
Subsecivce,  published  in  1858,  and  embrace  a  large 
amount  of  valuable  and  interesting  matter,  presented  in 
an  agreeable  and  graphic  style.  A  strain  of  piety  which 
well  befits  the  son  of  a  Scotch  clergy^man  perv^ades  all  his 
writings. 

But  it  is  high  time  to  return  to  our  dinner,  which, 
although  now  cold,  was  well  serv^ed,  and,  if  not  seasoned 
with  wit  and  humor,  was  set  off  with  some  choice  fruit 
from  Mr.  Syme's  extensive  conserv^atories.  The  peaches, 
with  a  skin  as  soft  and  delicate  as  the  finest  satin,  were 
delicious,  large,  juicy,  and  high-flavored,  such  as  I  had  not 
met  with  before  in  Europe ;  and  the  pineapples  would 
have  delighted  the  palate  of  a  refined  epicure.  The  ba- 
nana was  not  in  season,  but  oranges  and  lemons  graced 
the  table  and  hung  in  beautiful  clusters  upon  the  trees. 
Mr.  Syme  was  proud  of  his  exotics,  and  spent  daily  more 
or  less  time  in  his  greenhouses,  which  must  have  been  a 
source  of  not  a  little  expense  to  him.  Millbank,  when  he 
purchased  it  in  1840,  was  a  comparatively  unsightly  spot, 
but  taste  and  money  soon  improved  it,  and  eventually 
converted  it  into  a  paradise,  fit  for  the  occupancy  of  the 
family  of  such  a  man.  It  was  here  that  he  delighted  to 
entertain  his  friends,  generally  limiting  himself  to  a  few 
choice  spirits ;  for,  owing  to  his  retiring  disposition,  he 
disliked  large  parties.  Prominent  strangers,  especially 
members  of  the  medical  profession,  always  found  a  wel- 
come seat  at  his  table. 

Mr.  Syme  occupied  a  conspicuous  place  among  his  con- 
temporaries.    In  surgery  he  had  no  superior,  not  merely  as 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  289 

an  operator,  or  as  a  man  skilled  in  the  use  of  the  knife,  but 
as  a  surgical  pathologist,  diagnostician,  and  therapeutist. 
With  his  great  contemporary',  Robert  I^iston,  he  shared 
the  honor  of  reviving  the  flap  amputation,  originally  sug- 
gested by  Lowdham,  of  Oxford,  towards  the  close  of  the 
seventeenth  century  ;  and  with  another  not  less  illustrious 
man.  Sir  William  Fergusson,  the  honor  of  reviving  ex- 
cision of  the  joints,  until  then  almost  forgotten.  He  was 
the  first  to  perform  Chopart's  operation  in  Great  Britain, 
and  he  is  exclusively  entitled  to  the  credit  of  pointing 
out  the  practicability  and  safety  of  amputation  at  the 
ankle-joint,  now  an  established  procedure  in  surgery'. 
He  revived,  and  successfully  practised  in  numerous  cases, 
the  perineal  section  for  the  cure  of  callous  or  impass- 
able strictures ;  and  he  was  the  first  in  modern  times 
to  lay  open  the  sac  of  a  carotid,  an  iliac,  and  a  gluteal 
aneurism,  to  turn  out  the  clots,  and  to  apply  a  ligature  to 
each  end  of  the  diseased  vessel — achievements  until  re- 
cently without  a  parallel  in  the  annals  of  surgery.  The 
only  operation  which  I  saw  Mr.  Syme  perform  during  my 
sojourn  in  Edinburgh  was  that  of  trephining  the  tibia  for 
an  abscess  in  its  cavity,  in  a  middle-aged  man  who  had 
for  fourteen  years  been  a  victim  to  severe  neuralgic  pain. 
The  instrument  was  not  in  good  order,  and  the  operation 
was  therefore  more  than  ordinarily  tedious,  although  suc- 
cessful. 

As  a  writer,  Mr.  Syme  was  felicitous,  his  thoughts  being 
always  well  chosen,  and  conveyed  in  a  clear,  terse,  vigor- 
ous style.  He  is  best  known  by  his  Principles  of  Surgery, 
which  was  published  soon  after  his  entrance  into  the  pro- 
fession, and  which  was  enlarged  and  improved  in  each  suc- 
ceeding edition.  The  best  edition  of  his  works,  embracing 
a  complete  collection  of  his  monographs,  was  issued  by 
J.  B.  Lippincott  &  Co.  of  Philadelphia,  in  1866,  under  the 
editorial  supervision  of  a  former  pupil.  Dr.  Donald  Mac- 
lean, the  present  Professor  of  Surgery  at  Ann  Arbor  Uni- 
1—37 


290 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


versity,  Michigan.  As  a  contributor  to  the  periodical  press 
his  pen  was  seldom  idle,  and  he  was  for  some  time  editor 
of  the  Edinburgh  Medical  and  Surgical  Journal.  Early 
in  life  he  had  a  decided  taste  for  chemistry,  and  made  the 
important  discovery  that  distilled  coal-tar  is  a  ready  sol- 
vent of  caoutchouc,  a  discovery  which  was  soon  afterwards 
utilized  by  Mackintosh  in  the  manufacture  of  waterproof 
cloth.  Many  distinguished  honors  were  conferred  upon 
Mr.  Syme  both  at  home  and  abroad.  He  was  Surgeon-in- 
Ordinary  to  the  Queen  in  Scotland,  member  of  the  General 
Medical  Council,  and  for  nearly  a  third  of  a  century  Pro- 
fessor of  Clinical  Surgery  in  the  University  of  Edinburgh. 
In  stature  he  was  about  the  middle  height,  well-formed, 
with  a  countenance  somewhat  indicative  of  melancholy. 
In  his  younger  days  he  must  have  been  a  handsome  man. 
It  has  been  said  that  Mr.  Syme  was  not  amiable,  and,  con- 
sidering the  many  quarrels  in  which  he  was  engaged,  we 
find  some  ground  for  such  a  statement.  His  biographer, 
Dr.  Robert  Patterson,  asserts  that  he  was  a  somewhat 
peculiar  man,  with  much  acuteness  and  sagacity,  and 
quite  obstinate.  It  must  be  remembered  that  the  medical 
polemics  of  the  Scotch  capital  was  for  a  long  time  in  the 
worst  possible  condition ;  that  there  was  often  great  jeal- 
ousy among  rival  candidates  for  office  ;  and  that  Mr. 
Syme  was  not  unfrequently  a  target  for  bitter  and  un- 
founded innuendoes.  Surely,  under  such  circumstances, 
one's  temper  must  sometimes  give  way.  A  man  who  loves 
children  and  flowers  cannot  be  unamiable,  much  less  bad, 
and  Mr.  Syme  loved  both.  He  was  at  all  times  rather 
reserved  in  his  manner,  but  when  warmed  up  by  the  oc- 
casion he  was  an  agreeable  companion.  His  friends  and 
pupils  were  greatly  attached  to  him,  and  loiid  in  their  praise 
of  his  virtues,  his  intelligence,  and  his  accomplishments. 
John  Brown,  who  was  his  devoted  follower  and  life-long 
admirer,  in  inscribing  to  him  one  of  his  publications,  has 
pithily  portrayed  his  old  master's  chief  characteristics — 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  291 

Verax^  capax^  pei'spicax^  sagax^  efficax^  tenax.  He  adds : 
"It  has  been  happily  said  of  him  that  he  never  wastes  a 
word,  or  a  drop  of  ink,  or  a  drop  of  blood ;  and  his  is  the 
strongest,  exactest,  truest,  immediatest,  safest  intellect, 
dedicated  by  its  possessor  to  the  surgical  cure  of  mankind, 
I  have  ever  yet  met  with."  Death  overtook  the  great  sur- 
geon in  June,  1870,  in  the  seventy-first  year  of  his  age, 
in  consequence  of  a  second  attack  of  apoplexy. 

Soon  after  the  death  of  Professor  Syme  his  old  pupils 
and  friends  took  active  measures  to  raise  a  suitable  memo- 
rial to  him.  Among  these  friends,  the  most  enthusiastic, 
perhaps,  was  Dr.  Charles  IVIurchison,  of  London.  Know- 
ing the  warm  regard  which  I  felt  for  his  former  preceptor, 
this  gentleman  addressed  to  me  a  letter  upon  the  sub- 
ject. He  begged  me  to  interest  myself  with  the  principal 
surgeons  of  the  United  States  in  furtherance  of  the  object, 
and  forwarded  to  me  at  the  same  time  copies  of  a  printed 
circular,  fully  setting  forth  the  wishes  of  the  London  com- 
mittee in  charge  of  the  matter.  The  design  was  to  make 
the  memorial  international.  Altogether  I  obtained  about 
twenty  subscribers,  each  contributing  ten  dollars.  The 
memorial  consisted  of  a  marble  bust  of  Mr.  Syme,  placed 
in  the  hall  of  the  University  of  Edinburgh,  and  of  a  schol- 
arship of  one  thousand  pounds. 

I  cannot  help  subjoining  the  touching  words  of  the  good 
John  Brown  of  Syme's  last  days:  "I  was  the  first,"  he 
says,  "to  see  him  when  struck  down  by  hemiplegia.  It 
was  in  Shandwick  Place,  where  he  had  his  chambers — 
sleeping  and  enjoying  his  evenings  in  his  beautiful  ]\lill- 
bank,  with  its  flowers,  its  matchless  orchids  and  heaths 
and  azaleas,  its  bananas  and  grapes  and  peaches ;  with 
Blackford  Hill,  where  IMarmion  saw  the  Scottish  host 
mustering  for  Flodden,  in  front,  and  the  Pentlands,  with 
Cairkelton  Hill,  their  advanced  guard,  cutting  the  sky,  its 
ruddy  porphyry  scaur  holding  the  slanting  shadows  in  its 
bosom.     He  was,  as  before  said,  in  his  room  in  Shandwick 


292  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

Place,  sitting  in  his  chair,  having  been  set  up  by  his  faith- 
ful Blackbell,  His  face  was  distorted.  He  said,  'John, 
this  is  the  conclusion  ;'  and  so  it  was,  to  his  and  our  and 
the  world's  sad  cost.  He  submitted  to  his  fate  with  manly 
fortitude,  but  he  felt  it  to  the  uttermost — struck  down  in 
his  prime,  full  of  rich  power,  abler  than  ever  to  do  good  to 
man,  his  soul  surviving  his  brain,  and  looking  on  at  its 
ruins  during  many  sad  months.  He  became  softer,  gentler, 
more  easily  moved,  even  to  tears ;  but  the  judging  power, 
the  perspicacity,  the  piercing  to  the  core,  remained  un- 
touched. Henceforward,  of  course,  life  was  miserable. 
How  he  bore  up  against  this,  resigning  his  delights  of 
teaching,  of  doing  good  to  men,  of  seeing  and  of  cherishing 
his  students,  of  living  in  front  of  the  world — ^how  he  ac- 
cepted all  this  only  those  nearest  to  him  can  know.  I 
have  never  seen  anything  more  pathetic  than  when,  near 
his  death,  he  lay  speechless,  but  full  of  feeling  and  mind, 
and  made  known  in  some  inscrutable  way  to  his  old  gar- 
dener and  friend  that  he  wished  to  see  a  certain  orchid 
which  he  knew  should  be  then  in  bloom.  The  big,  clumsy, 
knowing  Patterson,  glum  and  victorious — he  was  forever 
getting  prizes  at  the  Horticultural — brought  it  in  without 
a  word.  It  was  the  ver}^  one — radiant  in  beauty,  white, 
with  a  brown  freckle,  like  Imogen's  mole,  and,  like  it, 
'  right  proud  of  that  more  delicate  lodging.'  He  gazed  at 
it,  and,  bursting  into  a  passion  of  tears,  motioned  it  away 
as  insufferable." 

John  Brown  was  a  worshipper  of  James  Syme.  He  evi- 
dently looked  upon  him  as  a  superior  being,  as  one  worthy 
of  the  love  and  admiration  not  only  of  his  pupils,  but  of 
mankind  at  large — as  one  endowed  with  the  noblest  attri- 
butes of  human  nature,  and  yet,  perhaps,  not  wholly  free 
from  some  of  its  failings. 

I  had  been  in  Edinburgh  more  than  two  days  before  I 
had  the  good  fortune  to  fall  in  with  Sir  James  Y.  Simpson, 
whose  acquaintance  I  had  made  a  short  time  previously  at 


SAMUEL  n.    GROSS,   M.  D.  293 

Norwich  during  the  meeting  of  the  British  Association  for 
the  Advancement  of  Science.  I  had  called  at  his  house, 
but  as  the  day  was  Sunday  I  did  not  succeed  in  seeing  him 
until  ]\Ionday  morning  when  he  visited  us  at  our  lodgings  ; 
and  after  that  time  he  was  all  kindness  and  attention  during 
our  week's  sojourn,  inviting  us  to  breakfast,  luncheon, 
dinner,  and  tea,  so  that  we  saw  him  generally  several 
times  a  day.  On  these  occasions  there  were  always  some 
agreeable  and  intelligent  people  at  table ;  sometimes  dis- 
tinguished strangers  from  a  great  distance,  or  from  foreign 
countries.  The  morning  before  we  left  he  had  at  break- 
fast, to  which  he  had  kindly  invited  us,  two  Egyptian 
doctors,  who  had  come  purposely  to  Edinburgh  to  form 
his  acquaintance.  In  fact,  at  his  house  there  was  a  con- 
stant round  of  unostentatious  hospitality.  Sir  James  al- 
ways had  at  command  a  fund  of  interesting  anecdotes,  and 
ever}'-  guest  felt  quite  at  his  ease.  As  a  talker  he  was  one 
of  the  most  charming  of  men,  always  brimful  of  accounts 
of  great  personages,  ghosts,  murders,  and  church  affairs. 
He  seemed  to  be  at  home  upon  ever>^  subject.  His  house 
was  a  perfect  caravansar}',  open  at  all  times  to  ever\'- 
body.  How  Lady  Simpson  bore  all  this  strain  was  a 
marvel.  One  would  suppose  that  it  would  have  required 
the  patience  of  a  Job  and  the  strength  of  a  giantess  to 
preside  at  such  a  board,  and  to  undergo  the  incessant  labor 
of  pouring  out  the  tea  and  of  doing  her  share  in  entertain- 
ing. The  house,  without  being  elegant,  was  spacious  and 
well  arranged,  and  afforded  a  beautiful  view  of  the  city 
and  of  the  Frith  of  Forth.  Several  rooms  were  set  apart 
for  the  reception  and  examination  of  patients,  who  came 
to  Sir  James  from  all  parts  of  the  countrv',  the  Continent 
of  Europe,  the  United  States,  and  even  the  antipodes. 
Several  hours  in  the  morning  and  afternoon  were  gener- 
ally spent  in  his  consulting-rooms,  where  he  was  aided 
by  one  of  his  more  advanced  pupils  and  a  well-trained 
female  nurse.     As  might  well  be  supposed,  he  was  often 


294  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

called  to  patients  at  a  distance  from  home.  It  was  very 
common  for  him  to  run  up  to  London  and  to  return  on  the 
same  day.  Occasionally  he  went  to  Paris  and  to  other 
Continental  cities,  always  travelling  in  haste  to  economize 
time,  so  precious  to  a  man  of  his  active  temperament  and 
incessant  occupation.  For  these  excursions  he  usually  re- 
ceived liberal  fees ;  and  yet  I  doubt  whether,  with  all  his 
large  income  from  his  practice,  he  left  much  of  an  estate. 
His  family  expenses  must  have  been  great.  Besides, 
money  was  not  his  idol.  He  worshipped  gods  of  a  far 
more  genial  character. 

In  his  appearance  Simpson  was  as  extraordinary  as  he 
was  in  his  social  and  professional  relations.  The  moment 
I  cast  my  eye  upon  him  at  Norwich  I  recognized  him  from 
his  strong  resemblance  to  the  photographs  I  had  seen  of 
him.  He  was  of  medium  stature,  with  an  enormous  head, 
well  covered  with  flowing  locks,  a  light  complexion,  bright 
blue  eyes,  a  well-shaped  mouth,  a  short,  thick  neck,  and 
broad  shoulders,  the  whole  set  off  by  a  countenance  indi- 
cative of  benevolence  and  intelligence.  A  glance  was  suf- 
ficient to  convince  us  that  we  stood  in  the  presence  of  a 
great  man — a  man  who  would  have  attained  a  conspicuous 
rank  in  any  pursuit  to  which  he  might  have  devoted  him- 
self. Few  men  in  any  walk  of  life  ever  attained  such 
eminence  in  so  short  a  time,  led  so  successful  a  career,  or 
died  so  universally  regretted.  Born  at  Bathgate,  Linlith- 
gowshire, Scotland,  in  1811,  of  humble  parentage,  he 
was,  like  many  other  illustrious  men,  the  architect  of 
his  own  fortune,  and  rose  rapidly  in  public  and  profes- 
sional favor  until,  in  1840,  eight  years  after  he  received 
his  medical  degree  at  Edinburgh,  he  was  elected  Professor 
of  Midwifer\^  in  his  Alma  Mater,  a  position  which  he 
filled  with  distinguished  tclat  up  to  the  time  of  his  death 
in  1870.  During  all  this  period,  in  which  he  stood  side 
by  side  with  such  men  as  Syme,  Bennett,  Christison,  and 
Goodsir,  there  was  no  one  who  did  more  than  he  to  up- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  295 

hold  the  fame  of  that  great  and  ancient  school.  He  taught 
Midwifery  as  it  had  never  been  taught  before  at  Edin- 
burgh, and  imparted  to  it  an  impulse  felt  throughout  the 
civilized  world.  He  placed  gy-nsecolog}-  upon  an  elevated 
platform,  and  invested  it  with  new  resources.  His  con- 
tributions to  both  of  these  departments,  mostly  in  the 
form  of  essays,  are  ever}' where  recognized  as  standard 
productions,  and  have  been  republished  in  this  country 
and  translated  into  different  languages.  In  everything 
he  undertook  he  was  progressive,  often  original,  always 
bold  and  decided.  When  the  news  reached  him  that 
ether  had  been  used  in  America  as  an  anaesthetic  he  at 
once  employed  it  in  his  midwifery  cases,  and  within  a 
twelvemonth,  solely  by  the  aid  of  experiment,  discovered 
the  anaesthetic  properties  of  chloroform.  With  such  a 
mind  as  his,  so  active,  so  vigorous,  so  restless,  it  was  im- 
possible for  him  to  be  idle,  or  indifferent  to  the  needs  and 
improvements  of  medicine.  Not  content  with  the  exac- 
tions and  labors  of  his  own  profession,  and  deeply  im- 
pressed with  the  truths  of  Christianity,  he  often  spent  the 
Sabbath  in  preaching  and  in  other  religious  exercises  ;  took 
an  especial  interest  in  the  temperance  cause,  and  busied 
himself  in  various  ways  in  ameliorating  the  condition  of 
the  poorer  classes.  He  devised  a  new  process,  known  as 
acupressure,  for  the  suppression  of  hemorrhage  after  sur- 
gical operations,  upon  which  he  published  a  learned  and 
exhaustive  treatise.  Antiquarian  researches  occupied  at 
one  time  much  of  his  attention.  Hospitalism,  a  term  in- 
troduced by  him  to  designate  the  hygienic  conditions  of 
hospitals,  formed  the  subject  of  a  series  of  elaborate  and 
valuable  papers  among  the  later  contributions  from  his 
prolific  pen. 

Simpson,  like  Syme,  was  the  recipient  of  many  honors, 
native  and  foreign.  Every  prominent  medical  and  scien- 
tific society  was  anxious  to  enroll  him  among  its  members. 
In  1853  ^^  was  elected  a  foreign  associate  of  the  French 


296  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

Academy  of  IMedicine,  wliicli,  three  years  later,  awarded 
him  the  Mouthyon  Prize  of  two  thousand  francs  for  his 
discovery  of  the  anaesthetic  properties  of  chloroform.  In 
1868  the  University  of  Oxford  conferred  upon  him  the  de- 
gree of  D.  C.  L.  The  Town  Council  of  Edinburgh  voted 
him  the  freedom  of  the  city ;  and  since  his  death  a  monu- 
ment has  been  erected  to  his  memory — an  unnecessary  un- 
dertaking for  a  man  whose  name  is  immortal.  Knowing 
that  he  and  Syme  had  long  been  on  ill  terms,  I  took  good 
care  not  to  mention  in  the  presence  of  the  one  the  name 
of  the  other.  How  their  misunderstanding  originated,  I 
never  learned.  Syme  detested  Professor  Miller,  another 
of  his  colleagues,  and  a  most  estimable  man. 

Mr.  Spence,  the  Professor  of  Surgery,  received  me  very 
kindly,  gave  me  a  handsome  luncheon,  showed  me  the 
University  buildings  and  some  of  his  morbid  preparations, 
and  altogether  impressed  me  as  an  amiable  and  estimable 
man.  He  was  an  excellent  surgeon,  but  not  a  brilliant 
lecturer.  He  performed  the  hip-joint  amputation  nearly,  or 
quite,  a  dozen  times.  His  recent  work  upon  surgery  has 
not  added  anything  to  his  reputation,  owing  to  the  fact  that 
it  is  in  arrear  of  the  existing  state  of  the  science.  Lay- 
cock,  the  professor  of  medicine,  was  out  of  town  ;  and  Pro- 
fessor Turner,  an  able  anatomist  and  accomplished  teacher, 
I  had  met  at  Oxford,  at  the  table  of  Professor  Rolleston. 
At  the  Royal  Infirmary  I  saw  Dr.  Heron  Watson  perform 
lithotomy  upon  a  middle-aged  man,  and  was  struck  with 
the  immense  length  of  his  external  incisions.  Upon  in- 
quiry, I  found  that  this,  unlike  our  own,  was  the  ordinary 
Edinburgh  practice. 

Professor  Christison,  now  a  veteran  in  our  ranks,  whose 
great  work  on  Poisons  has  given  him  a  world-wide  reputa- 
tion, was,  much  to  my  regret,  out  of  town.  The  late  J. 
Hughes  Bennett  was  also  absent.  I  had,  however,  met  him 
a  short  time  before,  first  at  Oxford,  and  subsequently  at 
Norwich,  where,  in  the  medical  section  of  the  British  x\sso- 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D. 


297 


elation  for  the  Advancement  of  Science,  I  heard  him  read 
an  abstract  of  his  paper  embodying  the  results  of  the  ex- 
periments performed  jointly  by  himself  and  others,  known 
as  the  Edinburgh  Committee,  on  the  effects  of  mercury  as 
a  cholagogue.  The  subjects  of  these  experiments  were 
dogs,  and  the  conclusion  reached  by  the  Committee  was  that 
mercur}^,  in  every  form  in  which  it  is  administered,  fails  to 
act  upon  the  liver  as  a  stimulant  of  the  biliary  secretion. 
It  was  my  privilege  to  reply  to  some  of  the  statements  of 
Professor  Bennett  on  the  occasion,  and,  if  I  convinced  no 
one  else,  I  was  myself  perfectly  satisfied  that  the  inferences 
of  the  Committee  were  entirely  fallacious  as  applied  to  the 
human  subject.  Every  intelligent  and  observant  practi- 
tioner on  this  continent  knows  that  calomel  will  increase 
the  secretion  of  bile,  whatever  effect  it  may  produce  upon 
the  inferior  animals.  Bennett,  who  was  a  man  of  un- 
doubted talents,  an  original  observer,  a  good  teacher,  and  an 
able  writer,  did  not  enjoy  the  reputation  of  being  an  amiable 
person.  He  was  irritable,  haughty,  captious,  overbearing, 
and  quarrelsome — whether  from  constitutional  vice,  or  as 
the  result  of  ill  health,  of  which  he  was  long  the  subject, 
I  am  unable  to  say. 

My  visit  to  Edinburgh  brought  me  into  contact  wath 
several  of  the  younger  members  of  the  profession,  parti- 
cularly Mr.  Joseph  Bell,  a  great-grandson  of  the  celebrated 
Benjamin  Bell,  and  Mr.  Thomas  Annandale,  both  men 
of  surgical  promise.  Dr.  James  Miller,  for  a  number  of  i 
years  Professor  of  Surgery  in  the  University  of  Edinburgh, 
and  the  author  of  two  excellent  works  on  surgery  well 
known  in  this  country,  had  died  only  a  short  time  before 
my  visit,  leaving  behind  him  a  son  destined,  it  is  hoped, 
to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  his  distinguished  father. 

The  University  of  Edinburgh,  founded  by  James  VI.,  in 

1582,  has  long  been  known  as  a  great  centre  of  medical 

science  and  medical  education.     In  the  last  century  it  was 

rendered  famous  by  the  Monros,  father  and  son,  by  Cullen, 

1-38 


298  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

and  by  Black,  and  in  this  century  it  presents  a  galaxy  of 
names  wliicli  the  world  will  not  willingly  let  die.  Benja- 
min and  John  Bell,  although  never  connected  with  the 
University,  wrote  and  practised  surgery  here ;  and  Barclay 
and  Knox  were  great  extramural  teachers  of  anatomy.  It 
was  in  the  Scotch  capital  that  that  great  triumvirate  in 
surgery,  Robert  Liston,  James  Syme,  and  William  Fer- 
gusson,  laid  the  foundation  of  their  future  renown.  It 
was  here  that  Thompson  first  taught  military  surgery  and 
wrote  his  immortal  work  on  Inflammation  ;  and  it  was  here 
that,  under  the  inspiration  of  the  prelections  of  John  Bell, 
Ephraim  McDowell  conceived  the  idea  of  the  practica- 
bility of  ovariotomy.  It  is  worthy  of  note  that  the  first 
professor  of  medicine  in  the  University  of  Edinburgh  was 
appointed  in  1685.  The  University  has  recently  augmented 
its  reputation,  owing  mainly,  I  think,  to  its  great  clinical 
advantages,  and  now  commands  immense  classes,  students 
flocking  to  it  from  all  parts  of  the  world. 

One  of  the  great  events  during  our  stay  at  Edinburgh 
was  the  visit  of  General  Lord  Napier,  the  hero  of  Magdala, 
at  the  instance  of  the  Town  Council,  who  voted  him  the 
freedom  of  the  city,  and  extended  to  him  a  public  recep- 
tion. The  city  was  crowded  with  strangers,  and  the  day  was 
given  up  to  amusement  and  recreation,  most  of  the  stores 
and  public  places  being  closed  in  honor  of  the  occasion. 

A  singular  fatality  seems  to  have  attended  the  fami- 
lies of  two  of  our  most  distinguished  Edinburgh  friends. 
Within  less  than  two  years  after  our  visit  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Syme  and  Sir  James  and  Lady  Simpson  were  numbered 
with  the  dead. 

From  Edinburgh  to  Glasgow  the  ride,  which  occupies 
only  about  two  hours,  extends  over  a  somewhat  hilly  and 
unattractive  countr}\  We  selected  Maclean's  Hotel.  The 
next  morning  my  son  and  myself  sallied  forth  in  quest  of 
objects  of  interest,  with  Dr.  George  H.  B.  Macleod,  the 
author  of  the  well-known  little  work  entitled  Notes  on  the 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  299 

Surgery  of  the  Crimean  War,  republished  by  J.  B.  L^ippin- 
cott  &  Co. ,  of  Philadelphia.  Our  first  stoppiug-place  was 
the  old  Ro3'al  lufirmar)^,  famous  on  account  of  the  exploits 
of  Lowrie,  Buchanan,  and  other  surgeons,  and  as  the 
building  in  which  Professor  lyister,  since  transferred  to 
Edinburgh,  first  put  in  practice  what  is  now  known  as  his 
dressing.  From  thence  we  walked  to  the  University  of 
Glasgow,  then  to  the  Hunterian  Anatomical  Museum,  and 
finally  down  St.  Giles  Street  to  the  city  court-rooms  in 
order  to  see  the  judges  and  lawyers  in  their  gowns  and 
wigs  and  to  get  a  sight  of  the  lower  classes  of  people. 
As  we  wandered  along  this  celebrated  thoroughfare,  we 
passed  crowds  of  filthy,  noisy  persons,  indulging  in  loud 
talking  and  obscene  language,  and  we  were  therefore 
not  a  little  glad  when  we  found  ourselves  in  a  quiet  and 
orderly  part  of  the  city.  Entering  the  court-room,  we 
were  politely  shown  to  seats,  and  an  opportunity  was  thus 
afforded  us  of  observing  the  proceedings  at  our  leisure.  The 
presiding  judge,  arrayed  in  his  wig  and  red  gown,  was  an 
elderly  man,  who  seemed  to  be  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
his  business.  The  case  before  him  was  that  of  a  young 
man  and  his  wife,  who  had  been  caught  a  few  days  before 
in  a  crowd  in  St.  Giles  Street  in  the  act  of  stealing  a  watch 
worth  probably  ten  or  fifteen  shillings.  The  evidence  was 
unmistakable,  and  the  judge,  without  further  ceremony, 
gave  each  eight  years  in  the  penitentiary.  Upon  asking 
one  of  the  lawyers  whether  the  sentence  was  not  a  severe 
one,  he  said,  '*Not  at  all;  both  the  prisoners  are  old  jail- 
birds." Other  cases  came  up  in  rapid  succession,  mostly 
of  denizens  of  the  famous  street  through  which  we  had 
passed  only  a  short  time  before.  The  judges  of  this  court 
lodged  at  Maclean's  Hotel,  which,  strange  to  say,  was 
guarded  while  they  were  in  the  house  by  several  armed 
men  in  unifonn.  In  the  morning  they  were  carried  away 
in  their  wigs  and  robes  in  carriages,  similarly  guarded,  and 
brought  back  in  the  same  manner  after  the  adjournment 


300  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

of  the  court.  Upon  inquiry  as  to  wliat  all  this  meant,  the 
answer  was,  "It  is  the  custom."  "Are  the  judges  in  any 
danger  of  being  assaulted  or  waylaid  ?"      "  Certainly  not. ' ' 

The  Hunterian  Museum,  the  gift  of  the  celebrated  Dr. 
William  Hunter,  of  London,  is  of  itself  worthy  of  a  visit  to 
Glasgow.  It  is  especially  rich  in  anatomical  preparations, 
in  dissections  of  the  healthy  and  gravid  uterus,  and  in 
specimens  of  the  foetus  and  of  the  full-grown  child,  healthy 
and  diseased.  It  also  contains  a  good  collection  of  books, 
coins,  pictures,  and  objects  of  natural  history  and  com- 
parative anatomy.  William  Hunter  was  a  brother  of  the 
great  John  Hunter,  and  a  pupil  of  Dr.  William  Cullen — 
three  illustrious  names  in  medicine.  He  was  a  native  of 
Scotland,  and  for  some  time  studied  divinity,  which,  at 
the  instance  of  Cullen,  he  abandoned  for  medicine,  gradu- 
ating at  the  University  of  Glasgow  in  1750.  His  career 
in  London  was  successful.  He  devoted  himself  chiefly  to 
the  practice  of  midwifery,  in  which  he  rapidly  rose  to 
distinction.  He  was  physician  to  the  Queen,  President 
of  the  College  of  Physicians,  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society, 
and  Associate  of  the  Academy  of  Medicine  of  Paris.  Be- 
sides his  Medical  Commentaries,  published  in  1762-64,  he 
left  a  work  upon  the  Human  Gravid  Uterus,  which  was 
illustrated  by  splendid  plates  engraved  from  his  own  dis- 
sections. He  died  in  1783.  It  is  said  that  the  immediate 
cause  of  his  death  was  exhaustion  brought  on  during  the 
delivery  of  an  introductory  lecture  at  a  time  when  he 
should  have  been  in  his  bed.  The  effort  was  too  great ; 
he  fainted,  and  never  rallied.  Turning  to  a  friend  as  he 
was  passing  away,  he  observed,  "  If  I  had  strength  enough 
to  hold  a  pen,  I  would  write  how  easy  and  pleasant  a  thing 
it  is  to  die." 

Having  heard  much  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Norman  Macleod 
as  a  preacher,  and  having  occasionally  read  a  number 
of  Good  Words,  Mrs.  Gross,  my  son,  and  myself  were 
desirous  of  seeing  him  in  his  own  pulpit.     We  accord- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  301 

ingly  went  the  Sunday  after  our  arrival  to  Barony  Parish 
Church,  his  brother,  Dr.  George  H.  B.  Macleod,  having, 
on  the  previous  evening,  kindly  engaged  seats  for  us  in 
the  family  pew.  The  servace  was  just  beginning  as  we 
entered,  the  divine  giving  out  the  hymn  in  a  voice  at 
once  clear,  distinct,  and  euphonious.  A  devout  prayer 
followed,  then  another  hymn,  and  finally  a  sermon  of 
great  strength  and  beauty,  full  of  strong,  common  sense, 
and  delivered  in  the  sweet  persuasive  tone  so  character- 
istic of  the  man.  There  was  no  attempt  at  oratory,  no 
declamation,  no  excitement.  The  words,  as  they  rolled 
from  his  mouth,  in  elegant  and  impressive  sentences, 
fell  gently  and  pleasantly  upon  the  ear,  and  sank  deeply 
into  the  heart  and  mind  of  the  hearer.  Looking  at 
the  preacher  as  he  stood  before  his  large  congrega- 
tion, earnestly  expounding  the  great  truths  of  the  Gospel, 
one  could  not  fail  to  be  struck  with  his  magnificent 
physique,  his  immense  head,  well  covered  with  silvered 
hair,  his  well-formed  mouth,  and  his  noble  features,  deno- 
tive  of  the  highest  order  of  intellect  and  of  the  warmest, 
gentlest  heart,  in  full  sympathy  with  the  whole  human 
family.  When  the  services  were  concluded  he  walked  di- 
rectly from  the  pulpit  to  our  pew,  shaking  each  of  us  cor- 
dially by  the  hand,  and  expressing  much  pleasure  at  seeing 
us.  He  added  that  he  had  many  kind  friends  among  my 
countr}-men,  and  had  received  much  attention  during  his 
late  visit  to  America. 

Norman  Macleod  was  one  of  Christ's  noblest  ambassa- 
dors, a  man  of  great  versatility,  full  of  knowledge,  and  a  fine 
scholar.  He  was  always  engaged  in  benevolent  enterprises, 
particularly  among  the  poor,  always  liberal  and  tolerant, 
yet  consistent  and  loyal  to  his  own  church.  My  heart 
warmly  sympathized  with  his  countrymen  when,  in  1872, 
the  press  announced  the  unwelcome  news  of  his  death.  A 
great  man  had  fallen  in  Israel,  and  Israel  was  clothed  in 
sackcloth  and  mourning.     He   died  at  the  age  of  sixty. 


302  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

He  was  associated,  as  author,  editor,  and  contributor, 
with  many  literary  undertakings,  and  at  the  time  of  his 
death  was  chaplain  to  the  Queen  for  Scotland.  His  Good 
Words  enjoyed  a  wide  circulation,  and  served  an  important 
purpose  as  an  educational  organ,  especially  with  the  more 
humble  classes.  An  excellent  Life  of  this  good  man  was 
published  in  1876  by  his  brother.  Rev.  Donald  Macleod. 

Of  the  influence  which  Macleod  wielded  over  his  conere- 
gation  some  idea  may  be  formed  from  the  fact  that  on  one 
occasion,  during  the  disruption  controversy  in  Scotland,  in 
1843,  ^^  spoke  to  it  for  three  houis  and  a  half.  "Not 
a  soul,"  he  says,  "moved.  Never  did  I  see  such  an  atten- 
tive audience. ' '  During  the  same  year  he  wrote  to  his  sis- 
ter Jane,  ' '  I  am  very  dozvie  and  cast  down — not  because 
I  am  alone,  for  I  love  the  bachelor  life  every  day  more 
and  more,  and  delight  in  the  independence  with  which  I 
can  rise,  eat,  read,  write  when  I  like !" 

I  had  corresponded  with  Dr.  George  B.  H.  Macleod  be- 
fore I  had  the  pleasure  of  making  his  personal  acquaint- 
ance, and  I  had  the  gratification  several  years  previously 
of  announcing  to  him  his  election  to  membership  in  the 
College  of  Physicians  of  Philadelphia.  At  the  time  of  my 
visit  he  was  one  of  the  surgeons  of  the  Royal  Infirmary  of 
Glasgow,  and  Professor  of  Surgery  in  the  Andersonian 
University,  from  which,  since  the  appointment  of  Mr. 
Ivister  as  the  successor  of  Syme  at  Edinburgh,  he  has  been 
transferred  to  the  University  of  Glasgow,  a  more  enviable 
and  influential  position.  Like  his  late  brother,  he  is  a 
giant  in  mind  as  well  as  in  body,  of  handsome  appearance, 
upwards  of  six  feet  in  height,  well  proportioned,  an  ex- 
cellent operator,  a  popular  teacher,  and  a  clear,  vigorous 
writer — one,  in  short,  of  those  men  who  know  how  to  per- 
form every  duty  incumbent  upon  them.  Frederick  the 
Great  would  have  given  half  of  Silesia  for  a  regiment  of 
such  men  as  the  Macleods. 

Since  the  above  was  penned  I  had  the  pleasure,  in  1881, 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  303 

of  extending  a  warm  welcome  to  Dr.  Alacleod  at  my  own 
house,  and  of  entertaining  him  along  with  a  small  number 
of  friends  invited  to  greet  him.  He  was  making  a  rapid 
tour  of  the  country,  with  which  and  its  wonderful  enter- 
prise, everywhere  discernible,  he  expressed  himself  greatly 
delighted.  He  is  unquestionably  one  of  the  strongest  men 
in  his  particular  sphere  in  Scotland. 

In  connection  with  my  visit  to  Scotland  I  must  refer 
to  a  circumstance  which  has  always  been  to  me  a  source 
of  annoyance.  Professor  Pirrie,  of  Aberdeen,  a  great 
man,  recently  deceased,  did  me  the  honor  to  transfer  from 
my  work  on  Surgery  to  his  a  whole  page,  vcrbathn  et 
literatiiJi^  of  my  remarks  on  the  bite  of  the  rattlesnake ; 
and  he  did  this  without  one  particle  of  acknowledgment. 
Why  he  should  have  done  it  has  always  been  to  me  a  mys- 
tery, the  more  especially  as  he  is  an  excellent  writer,  and 
thoroughly  versed  in  the  literature  of  the  art  and  science 
of  surgery.  I  should  not  have  mentioned  the  matter  at  all 
in  this  autobiography  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  others, 
not  acquainted  with  it,  might  suppose  me,  and  not  my 
Scotch  contemporary,  to  be  at  fault.  An  asterisk  would 
have  rendered  such  a  reference  unnecessary. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

THE  giant's  causeway — BELFAST — DUBLIN — TRINITY  COLLEGE — MEDICAL  MEN 
AND  HOSPITALS  OF  DUBLIN — THE  ROYAL  COLLEGE  OF  SURGEONS — ^THE  DIS- 
ESTABLISHMENT OF  THE  IRISH  CHURCH — SIR  WILLIAM  R.  WILDE — SIR  DOMINIC 

JOHN     CORRIGAN,     BART. WILLIAM     STOKES RECEPTION     AFfER     RETURNING 

TO    PHILADELPHIA. 

Leaving  Glasgow  after  a  sojourn  of  three  days,  during 
which  we  visited  Loch  Katrine  and  Loch  Lomond,  full 
of  weird  associations  and  romantic  scenery,  we  took  the 
steamer  late  in  the  afternoon  for  Ireland,  passing  down 
the  beautiful  Clyde,  and  crossing  the  Irish  Channel  during 
the  night,  reaching  Belfast  by  daylight  the  next  morning. 
Taking  an  early  breakfast  we  hurried  off  to  the  train  for 
Portrush,  where  we  arrived  after  a  ride  of  nearly  three 
hours  over  a  dreary  country,  with  now  and  then  a  fine 
field  and  respectable  house  to  break  the  monotony  of  the 
sad  sight.  Hiring  a  jaunting-car,  a  one-horse  vehicle 
peculiar,  I  believe,  to  the  Emerald  Isle,  we  drove  rapidly 
over  a  pleasant  road,  much  of  it  lying  along  the  sea- 
coast,  to  the  Giant's  Causeway,  that  wonderful  natural 
curiosity  which  is  so  well  worthy  of  a  visit,  and  which 
has  been  so  often  and  so  well  described  by  tourists.  Many 
romantic  stories  are  told  about  this  singular  basaltic  prom- 
ontory, consisting,  it  is  said,  of  nearly  four  thousand  col- 
umns, each  presenting  the  form  of  a  crj-stal,  with  a  smooth, 
polished  surface,  three-sided  in  some,  and  nonagonal,  or 
nine-sided,  in  others.  How  far  these  columns  extend  in 
depth  is  hardly  a  matter  even  of  conjecture.  The  scene 
is  one  of  sublimity,  and  it  is  therefore  not  surprising  that 
in  the  estimation  of  the  vulgar  it  should  have  been  re- 
garded as  the  work  of  the  giants — whence  its  name. 
304 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  SAMUEL  D.  GROSS,  AI.  D.    305 

Belfast  presents  few  objects  of  interest  to  the  medical 
tourist.  Apart  from  its  immense  flax  and  cotton  factories 
it  is  little  known  out  of  Europe.  It  has  a  beautiful  botan- 
ical garden,  and  a  large  museum,  worthy  of  inspection  on 
account  of  its  rich  collection  of  Irish  antiquities.  Queen's 
College  is  a  well-organized  institution,  embracing  faculties 
of  arts,  science,  literature,  and  medicine.  The  medical 
school  has  a  convenient  edifice,  well  arranged  and  equipped 
for  eflacient  courses  of  instruction,  and  several  of  the  pro- 
fessors are  men  of  eminence.  Dr.  McCosh  was  for  a  num- 
ber of  years  professor  in  its  literary  department ;  and  it 
was  fortunate  for  Princeton  and  the  United  States  that  he 
was  decoyed  away  from  an  institution  in  which  he  had  no 
opportunity  of  exercising  those  remarkable  executive  abil- 
ities which  have  raised  Nassau  Hall,  within  less  than  ten 
years,  from  a  third-rate  or  fourth-rate  seminary  to  one  of 
the  most  respectable  colleges  in  the  land. 

The  Belfast  Hospital  is  an  old  edifice,  but  its  interior 
is  kept  in  excellent  condition,  and  the  medical  and  sur- 
gical staffs  are  men  of  ability,  intent  upon  the  performance 
of  their  duties.  Before  leaving  the  city,  I  called  iipon  Mr. 
William  MacCormac,  a  promising  and  highly-educated 
young  surgeon,  whom  I  met  a  few  weeks  previously  at 
Oxford  at  the  meeting  of  the  British  Medical  Association, 
and  who  extended  to  me  a  genuine  Irish  welcome. 

The  journey  from  Belfast  to  Dublin  occupies  nearly  three 
hours  and  a  half,  the  distance  being  one  hundred  miles. 
The  road  passes  over  a  lovely  rolling  country,  interspersed 
with  numerous  towns  and  villages,  and  the  views  im- 
press one  favorably  with  the  industry  and  resources  of 
the  Irish  people.  On  arriving  in  the  Irish  capital  an 
American  traveller  almost  instinctively  tells  the  coachman 
to  drive  to  the  Shelboume,  which  is  a  clean,  well-kept 
hotel,  and  situated  immediately  opposite  Stephen's  Green, 
or  what  in  Philadelphia  would  be  called  Stephen's  Square, 
convinced  that  he  will  meet  with  some  of  his  countr>'men, 
1—39 


3o6  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

with  whom  the  house  is  a  great  favorite.  Dublin  is  admi- 
rably situated,  and  in  point  of  beauty  is  inferior  to  no  city 
in  Great  Britain,  Edinburgh  not  excepted.  To  an  Ameri- 
can it  is  quite  attractive,  apart  from  the  elegance  of  its 
many  private  residences,  for  the  very  atmosphere  is  full 
of  historical  associations.  Trinity  College,  founded  in  the 
reign  of  Elizabeth,  is  known  the  world  over  as  a  great 
Protestant  educational  institution,  the  Alma  Mater  of 
thousands  of  distinguished  scholars,  representing  all  the 
learned  professions,  politics,  statesmanship,  the  army  and 
navy,  poetry,  wit,  humor,  and  authorship.  A  degree  from 
this  college  has  always  been  esteemed  a  high  honor.  Its 
medical  department  has  embraced  many  able  men.  In- 
deed, Dublin  has  long  been  celebrated  for  its  physicians, 
surgeons,  and  obstetricians,  constituting  what  is  known 
every' where  as  the  "Irish  School" — not,  I  think,  ex- 
celled by  any  learned  body  in  the  world.  Among  the 
famous  living  representatives  at  the  time  of  my  visit, 
in  1868,  were  Stokes,  Kennedy,  Jacobs,  Robert  Smith, 
Adams,  Beatty,  Sir  William  R.  Wilde,  Churchill,  O'Farral, 
Sir  Dominic  John  Corrigan,  Bart,  Tufnell,  Butcher,  George 
Porter,  IMacDonnell,  and  Maurice  Collis.  The  dead  embrace 
a  long  list  of  illustrious  names,  such  as  Carmichael,  Colles, 
Wilmot,  Crampton,  Graves,  Harrison,  William  H.  Porter, 
Rynd,  Macartney,  Houston,  Marsh,  Montgomery,  and 
Bellingham.  The  medical  press  of  Dublin  has  been  pro- 
lific in  meritorious  productions.  The  works  of  Robert  J. 
Graves  and  William  Stokes  alone  are  sufficient  to  impart 
a  distinctive  character  to  any  medical  school.  Carmichael 
and  Colles  laid  the  foundation  of  much  of  our  knowledge 
of  the  nature  and  treatment  of  syphilitic  diseases  ;  Mont- 
gomery and  Kennedy  have  excellently  illustrated  the  diag- 
nosis of  pregnancy ;  Robert  Smith  has  written  the  ablest 
monograph  on  fractures  of  the  joints,  and  Robert  Adams 
the  best  on  rheumatic  gout,  in  any  language  ;  the  works  of 
Collins  and  Beatty  on  midwifery  are  largely  quoted  by  con- 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  307 

temporal-}'  writers.  Sir  William  R.  Wilde's  treatise  on 
aural  diseases  was  for  a  long  time  the  most  scientific  work 
upon  the  subject ;  the  work  of  William  Henr}'  Porter  on  the 
larynx  is  consulted  by  ever^'body  in  quest  of  information 
respecting  the  affections  of  that  organ.  In  medical  jour- 
nalism Dublin  occupies  a  high  position.  The  Dublin 
Journal  of  Medicine  has  enjoyed  a  brilliant  career,  and 
comprises  much  of  the  best  periodical  literature  that  has 
appeared  in  Great  Britain  during  the  present  century. 
The  ablest  men  in  the  Irish  profession  have  contributed 
to  its  success.  It  may  be  observ^ed,  in  general  terms,  that 
the  works  which  have  emanated  from  the  Dublin  school 
are  characterized  by  originality,  by  force  of  expression, 
and  by  elegant  scholarship.  The  treatises  of  Graves  and 
Stokes  are  specimens  of  the  highest  class  of  authorship. 

In  the  treatment  of  aneurism  the  Dublin  surgeons  are 
entitled  to  the  highest  praise.  Until  near  the  middle  of 
the  present  century  no  advances  had  been  made  of  any 
really  important  character  in  the  management  of  this  dis- 
ease since  the  days  of  John  Hunter.  In  1847  appeared  the 
monograph  of  Dr.  O'Bryen  Bellingham,  entitled  Obser- 
vations on  Aneurism,  and  its  Treatment  by  Compression 
— a  work  which  speedily  imparted  a  new  impulse  to  this 
branch  of  surger>'.  Mechanical  compression  by  means  of 
well-constructed  clamps  in  great  measure  superseded  the 
use  of  the  ligature,  and  led  to  other  important  modifica- 
tions of  treatment,  especially  digital  compression  and 
forced  flexion,  by  which  numerous  cases  of  this  disease, 
even  aneurism  of  the  abdominal  aorta,  have  since  been 
cured.  It  had  occasionally  been  employed  prior  to  the 
period  in  question  ;  but  it  remained  for  the  Dublin  sur- 
geons, especially  Bellingham  and  Tufnell,  by  a  course  of 
carefully-conducted,  philosophical  observations,  to  place 
the  treatment  upon  a  scientific  basis. 

Dublin  abounds  in  hospitals.  The  principal  ones  are 
Stevens's,    the  Richmond,   Meath,   Mercer's,   Sir  Patrick 


3o8  AUTOBIOGRAFHY  OF 

Dun's,  and  St.  Vincent's,  the  last  being  in  charge  of  the 
Sisters  of  Charity.  Stevens's  Hospital,  founded  in  1720 
by  Dr.  Stevens,  contains  three  hundred  and  fifty  beds, 
and  is  situated  near  the  insane  asylum  founded  by  Dean 
Swift ;  Stella  having  been  a  contributor  to  it,  and  the 
Dean  himself  having,  if  I  mistake  not,  been  for  a  while  an 
inmate.  The  Meath  Hospital,  so  celebrated  as  the  theatre 
of  the  labors  and  observations  of  Graves,  Stokes,  Cusack, 
Crampton,  W.  H.  Porter,  Maurice  Collis,  and  others,  is  an 
ordinary-looking  building,  situated  in  the  outskirts  of  the 
city,  on  a  lot  originally  belonging  to  the  Earl  of  Meath, 
whence  its  name.  It  has  one  hundred  and  fifteen  beds, 
and  is  provided  with  a  well-arranged  lecture  and  operating 
room.  It  was  in  this  hospital,  a  few  years  ago,  that  Mau- 
rice Collis,  an  eminent  young  surgeon,  the  author  of  an  ex- 
cellent work  on  cancer,  in  removing  a  scirrhous  mammary 
gland,  accidentally  received  a  wound  on  his  finger  which 
caused  pyaemia  and  death.  The  Richmond  Hospital  is  con- 
nected with  what  is  known  as  the  Carmichael  School  of 
Medicine,  and  is  an  old  but  well-managed  institution.  The 
younger  Stokes,  who,  instead  of  following  in  the  footsteps 
of  his  father,  is  rapidly  building  up  a  surgical  reputation, 
and  Dr.  Robert  Adams,  at  the  time  seventy-four  years  of  age, 
but  still  hale  and  vigorous,  showed  me  everything  of  inter- 
est. The  operating-room  is  small  but  convenient.  The 
museum  contains  many  valuable  pathological  specimens, 
among  others  one  in  which  both  femoral  arteries  had  been 
tied  in  the  same  subject  after  an  interval,  if  I  mistake  not, 
of  seventeen  years.  It  is  particularly  rich  in  preparations 
and  casts  of  chronic  arthritis,  from  which  Mr.  Adams 
copied  the  admirable  drawings  and  plates  which  illustrate 
his  work  upon  that  disease.  Sir  Patrick  Dun's  Hospital 
was  founded  by  a  noted  physician  of  that  name,  who  be- 
queathed to  it  his  large  fortune.  The  building,  situated  in 
the  vicinity  of  Trinity  College,  has  a  granite  front,  and  is 
one  of  the  neatest  institutions  of  the  kind  in  the  metropolis. 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D. 


309 


Connected  with  the  hospital  is  a  training-school  for  nurses, 
under  the  supervision  of  Miss  Probyn,  who  gave  me  much 
useful  infonnation  upon  a  subject  in  which  I  felt  at  the 
time  deeply  interested,  and  presented  me,  on  parting,  some 
valuable  printed  documents. 

Of  the  eleemosynary  institutions  in  Dublin  none  in- 
terested me  so  much  as  the  Rotunda,  or  Dublin  Lying-in 
Hospital,  kindly  shown  me  by  Dr.  Evory  Kennedy,  the 
attending  physician,  or,  as  he  is  generally  called,  the 
Master.  It  is  a  noble  edifice,  extending  along  one  of 
the  principal  streets  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  feet,  and 
it  is  provided  with  every  comfort  and  convenience  for 
the  treatment  of  destitute  parturient  women,  the  number 
of  admissions  annually  being  upwards  of  two  thousand. 
The  rooms,  although  not  spacious,  are  neat  and  well  ven- 
tilated, and  are  frequently  whitewashed.  In  fact,  every 
possible  precaution  is  used  to  keep  them  in  a  salubrious 
condition.  The  result  is  that  the  mortality  is  uncom- 
monly slight.  The  Master  is  assisted  by  six  resident 
students  and  by  eight  female  obstetricians — the  latter  of 
whom,  in  addition  to  the  duties  of  the  house,  attend  to 
out-door  patients.  The  hospital,  owing  to  the  manner  in 
which  it  is  managed,  enjoys  a  wide  reputation ;  and  nu- 
merous pupils,  both  native  and  foreign,  are  drawn  here  by 
the  four  courses  of  obstetric  lectures  which  are  annually 
delivered  by  the  Master  in  virtue  of  his  official  position. 
Dr.  Evory  Kennedy,  widely  known  by  his  waitings,  is  an 
accomplished  obstetrician.  He  is  a  tall,  slender,  elderly 
gentleman,  with  a  fine  head  and  face,  and  of  winning 
manners.  It  was  my  good  fortune  to  renew  my  acquaint- 
ance with  him  in  1872,  at  the  meeting  of  the  British  Med- 
ical Association  at  Birmingham,  and  it  was  not  easy  to 
resist  his  tempting  and  urgent  solicitations  to  accompany 
him  to  his  home  in  Dublin.  The  Rotunda  was  founded  in 
1 751  by  Dr.  Mosse,  a  wealthy  and  benevolent  gentleman, 
whose  marble  bust  is  in  the  hall. 


3IO 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


Dublin  has  an  excellent  ophthalmic  hospital,  founded 
by  Sir  William  R.  Wilde,  under  whose  direction  it  was  for 
a  long  time  mainly  managed.  It  has  room  for  thirty-six 
beds,  and  is  provided  with  a  neat  operating  and  lecture 
room  and  all  the  requisite  conveniences  for  the  examina- 
tion and  treatment  of  diseases  of  the  eye.  Sir  William 
continues  to  extract  cataract  by  the  old  method,  looking 
upon  Graefe's  process  by  iridectomy  as  an  unnecessary  and 
absurd  innovation. 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  foregoing  remarks  that  not  fewer 
than  four  of  the  Dublin  hospitals  were  founded  by  medical 
men,  three  of  whom — Stevens,  Mosse,  and  Sir  Patrick 
Dun — devoted  their  entire  estates  to  their  endowment. 
Such  noble  benefactions  deserve  the  highest  praise,  for 
who  can  estimate  the  amount  of  good  which  they  are  daily 
doing  to  the  sick  poor?  Nearly  all  the  hospitals  in  the 
Irish  metropolis  are  connected  with  medical  schools,  and 
hence  they  are  in  no  small  degree  contributory  to  the  ad- 
vancement of  scientific  medical  and  surgical  education. 
The  rivalry  which  must  necessarily  exist  among  them  is 
in  itself  a  powerful  incentive  to  a  generous  ambition  and 
salutary  exertion.  As  the  classes  are  generally  small, 
the  teaching  and  the  opportunities  for  improvement  must 
be  more  effective  than  in  larger  institutions.  Is  not  this 
the  reason  why  Dublin  has  so  many  excellent  physicians, 
surgeons,  and  obstetricians  ?  Every  man  connected  with 
such  a  hospital,  if  he  is  good  for  anything  at  all,  becomes 
at  once  an  observer  of  disease  and  a  teacher  of  youth — 
two  powerful  factors  in  the  acquisition  of  reputation. 
There  must  be  considerably  more  than  one  hundred  men 
in  Dublin  who  are  daily  occupied  in  this  manner  of  re- 
ceiving knowledge  and  imparting  it  to  others. 

I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  George  Porter  for  an  opportunity  of 
inspecting  the  museum  of  the  Royal  College  of  Surgeons, 
situated  in  a  beautiful  part  of  the  city,  directly  opposite 
Stephen's  Green.    The  building  is  in  the  Doric  style,  with 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  311 

a  granite  front,  and  is  surmounted  by  the  statues  of 
Minerva,  H}^geia,  and  ^!Esculapius.  The  hall  is  adorned 
with  excellent  busts  of  Dease,  Cusack,  Colles,  Carmichael, 
Kirby,  Crampton,  Charles  Hawkes  Todd,  William  H. 
Porter,  Bellingham,  Power,  and  other  surgeons.  The 
library  comprises  more  than  twenty  thousand  volumes ; 
and  the  museum,  contained  in  three  separate  rooms,  the 
largest  of  which  is  eighty-four  feet  long  by  thirty  in  width, 
is  rich  in  valuable  specimens,  exhibiting  healthy,  patho- 
logical, and  comparative  anatomy.  There  is  also  a  fine 
collection  of  wax  preparations,  the  work  chiefly  of 
French  artists — the  gift,  I  was  told,  of  the  Duke  of  North- 
umberland. The  lecture -rooms  and  the  dissecting-rooms 
are  among  the  best  I  have  ever  seen.  Many  prominent 
physicians  and  surgeons  of  Dublin  have  been  teachers  in 
this  institution.  It  was  incorporated  in  1784,  and,  although 
it  received  liberal  aid  from  Parliament,  its  success  was 
mainly  due  to  the  influence  and  labors  of  the  late  Dr. 
Renny,  Director-General  of  Military  Hospitals.  The  Col- 
lege of  Physicians  has  a  fine  edifice,  a  good  library,  and 
excellent  rooms,  adorned  with  portraits  of  some  of  its 
more  noted  members. 

We  happened  to  be  in  Dublin  during  the  meeting  of  the 
clerg}^  to  consider  the  question  of  Mr.  Gladstone's  bill  for 
the  disestablishment  of  the  Irish  church.  The  meeting, 
presided  over  by  the  Archbishop  of  Dublin,  was  held  in  a 
large  edifice  near  Stephen's  Green,  and  was  attended 
by  persons  of  the  highest  respectability  from  all  parts 
of  Ireland.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  speaking,  but 
little  which  was  good,  or  which  seemed  to  me  to  be  to  the 
point.  Questions  as  to  order  were  of  frequent  occurrence, 
and  occasionally  there  was  a  great  deal  of  merriment,  in- 
terspersed with  hisses  and  loud  and  even  boisterous  talk- 
ing. Much  confusion  often  prevailed,  and  it  was,  appar- 
ently, almost  impossible  for  the  chairman  to  preserve 
order.       The    meeting    was    in    session    nearly   a    week. 


312  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

The  passage  of  the  Premier's  bill  hardly  disappointed  any- 
one out  of  Ireland.  To  show  the  folly  of  feeding  the  Irish 
clergy,  as  had  been  so  long  the  practice  of  the  English 
church,  I  may  mention  that  I  met  at  dinner  at  the  house 
of  a  friend  one  of  these  gentry  from  the  interior  of  the 
country,  who  had  for  more  than  forty  years  received  an- 
nually more  than  three  thousand  dollars  for  his  charge  of 
a  parish  which  had  never  had  at  any  one  time  as  many  as 
twenty  communicants.  To  use  his  own  expression,  his 
parish  was  "steeped  in  Catholicism."  It  was  distress- 
ing, of  course,  to  throw  such  a  man  out  of  employment, 
and  hence  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  and  hundreds  of 
others  in  similar  circumstances  should  have  died  hard. 

I  had  met  Sir  William  R.  Wilde  at  Oxford  some  time 
before  my  arrival  in  Dublin,  and  was  therefore  glad  to 
renew  my  acquaintance  with  him  at  his  own  house.  A 
more  generous,  warm-hearted  man  it  would  have  been  hard 
to  find  in  her  Majesty's  three  kingdoms,  or  any  one  who 
possessed  more  general  intelligence,  or  had  acquired  a 
higher  position  as  an  aurist  and  an  oculist.  He  was  a  steady 
worker,  an  enthusiast  in  everything  he  undertook.  His 
writings,  whether  in  book-form,  or  contributions  to  the 
periodical  press,  whether  relative  to  general  medicine,  to 
his  own  specialties,  or  to  purely  literary  or  scientific 
investigations,  are  scholarly  productions,  evincing  un- 
usual powers  of  observation,  patient  research,  and  critical 
acumen.  His  treatise  on  the  ear  is  a  classical  work. 
His  statistics  of  deaf-mutism  were  collected  with  great 
pains,  and  had  the  effect  of  bringing  his  name  prom- 
inently before  the  British  government,  as  well  as  be- 
fore the  different  nations  of  Europe.  It  was  in  con- 
sideration of  the  time,  labor,  and  talents  bestowed  upon 
this  important  subject  that  the  Queen  was  induced  to 
confer  upon  him  the  honor  of  knighthood,  without  how- 
ever a  baronetcy.  Many  of  his  leisure  hours  in  the  latter 
part  of  his  life  were  devoted  to  antiquarian  researches,  in 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  313 

which  he  made  some  important  discoveries.  The  dis- 
course upon  the  Antiquities  of  Ireland,  which  he  deliv- 
ered before  the  British  Association  for  the  Advancement 
of  Science  at  its  meeting  at  Belfast  in  August,  1874,  at- 
tracted much  attention,  on  account  of  its  learning,  the 
force  and  elegance  of  its  diction,  and  its  philosophical 
deductions. 

Sir  Dominic  John  Corrigan,  Bart. ,  occupies  a  high  posi- 
tion in  Dublin  as  a  physician  and  as  a  man  of  intellect 
Soon  after  my  arrival  he  kindly  invited  me  to  dine  with 
him  at  his  country  residence  some  miles  from  the  city  ;  but 
a  previous  engagement  prevented  me  from  accepting  his 
courtesy — a  circumstance  which  I  much  regretted,  as  the 
company  which  I  was  to  meet  was  a  select  one,  composed 
of  prominent  doctors  and  Irish  gentlemen.  Sir  Dominic 
is  a  baronet,  a  man  of  wealth,  and  is  in  large  practice. 
He  has  a  noble  physique.  Besides  his  lectures  on  the 
Nature  of  Fever,  and  some  minor  publications,  he  has 
been  a  large  contributor  to  Forbes' s  Cyclopedia  of  Prac- 
tical Medicine  and  to  the  periodical  press.  As  a  writer 
he  is  clear  and  full  of  his  subject,  and  on  occasion  a 
sharp  critic.  In  his  address  on  Medicine  delivered  before 
the  British  Medical  Association  at  its  meeting  at  Dublin, 
in  1867,  he  indulged  in  some  harsh  and  unjust  remarks 
respecting  the  American  medical  profession,  which  at  the 
time  led  to  caustic  comments  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic, 
and  for  which  we  have  hardly  yet  forgiven  him.  Some 
years  ago  a  strong  effort  was  made  to  secure  Sir  Dominic 
a  seat  in  Parliament,  either  as  a  representative  of  the 
medical  profession  or  of  the  Irish  universities  ;  but,  al- 
though the  medical  press  and  a  number  of  the  more 
prominent  secular  papers  of  the  Irish  metropolis  strongly 
advocated  his  claims,  he  was  not  elected.  Had  he  suc- 
ceeded, he  would  have  proved  a  powerful  champion  in  pro- 
moting the  interests  of  medical  reform  and  of  the  public 
health.  His  ability,  his  experience,  his  strong  common- 
I — 40 


314  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF 

sense,  and  liis  independent  bearing  would  have  well  fitted 
him  for  such  a  task. 

During  the  meeting  of  the  British  Medical  Association 
at  Oxford,  in  1868,  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  Dr.  Wil- 
liam Stokes,  a  man  of  world-wide  reputation  as  an  author 
and  as  an  original  observer,  and  occupied  a  seat  near 
him  on  the  platform  at  the  annual  dinner.  Called  upon 
to  reply  to  a  toast,  he  rose  slowly,  passed  his  hand  over  his 
' '  gastricism, ' '  and  said,  ' '  Mr.  Chairman,  I  am  very  much 
in  the  condition  of  an  American  Indian, — 'belly  full,  head 
empty. '  ' '  And,  true  enough,  the  learned  doctor,  the  great 
physician,  the  LL.  D.,  and  the  recently  made  D.  C.  L.  of 
Oxford,  had  nothing  to  say  which  was  not  common- 
place. His  remarks  were  quite  dull,  and  his  manner  was 
devoid  of  everything  that  might  have  been  expected  from 
an  Irishman.  I  take  for  granted  that  Dr.  Stokes  was 
never  a  great  lecturer,  although  he  has  unquestionably 
been  a  superior  teacher.  He  took  his  degree  at  Edin- 
burgh in  1825,  ^^^  appeared  to  be  a  well-preser\^ed  gen- 
tleman. I  presume  that  he  is  one  of  tliose  men  who  are 
never  idle.  His  numerous  works  show  him  to  be  a  man 
of  uncommon  industr}^,  of  close  observation,  and  of  great 
powers  of  analysis.  As  a  diagnostician  and  medical  prac- 
titioner it  is  but  just  to  say  that  he  has  no  superior.  His 
work  on  Diseases  of  the  Chest,  his  treatise  on  Diseases  of 
the  Heart,  his  lectures  on  the  Theory  and  Practice  of 
Medicine,  and  his  lectures  on  Fever  are  characterized  by 
sterling  excellence,  and  form  an  enduring  record  of  his 
ability.  He  is  the  most  prolific  medical  author  Ireland 
has  produced  ;  and  everything  he  has  written  is  based 
essentially  upon  the  cases  treated  by  him  in  the  celebrated 
Meath  Hospital. 

We  returned  from  Europe  on  the  15th  of  October,  1868, 
after  an  absence  of  five  months.  We  hardly  touched  the 
shore  before  I  was  told  that  my  medical  friends,  gradu- 


SAAIUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  315 

ates  of  the  College,  chiefly  young  men,  had  determined,  as 
a  testimony  of  their  afifection  and  esteem,  to  give  Professor 
Pancoast,  who  had  been  absent  nearly  one  year,  and  my- 
self a  public  reception  in  the  foyer  of  the  Academy  of 
IMusic.  As  all  the  arrangements  had  been  made  before 
the  news  was  divulged  to  us,  it  was  in  vain  to  remon- 
strate, and  the  reception  accordingly  came  off  on  Saturday, 
October  24th.  Dr.  Ellwood  Wilson,  the  well-known  ob- 
stetrician, was  chairman  of  the  committee,  and  Dr.  Frank 
F.  Maur}',  secretar}^  The  greeting  was  presented  in  an 
able  address  by  Dr.  Addinell  Hewson.  Several  hundred 
ladies  and  gentlemen  were  in  attendance,  such  as  J.  Marion 
Sims,  Eliott,  Sayre,  the  Flints,  Dalton,  James  R.  Wood, 
John  L.  Atlee,  Askew  of  Delaware,  and  Kinloch  of 
Charleston.  A  number  of  distinguished  physicians  had 
come  from  New  York,  Pennsylvania,  and  other  States. 
There  were  also  present  prominent  members  of  the  bar 
and  pulpit,  representatives  of  the  navy,  of  the  press,  and 
of  the  mercantile  community.  Hassler's  band  discoursed 
sweet  music  ;  the  Academy  was  admirably  lighted  ;  the 
ladies  were  in  their  best  toilettes  ;  and  the  whole  scene 
was  one  of  great  beauty  and  brilliancy.  After  the  ad- 
dresses were  over  an  elegant  and  costly  supper  was  served. 
An  abundance  of  champagne  added  greatly  to  the  hilarity 
of  an  occasion  which,  while  my  family  and  friends  fully 
appreciated  it,  I  shall  never  forget.  The  compliment 
was  as  flattering  as  it  had  been  unexpected ;  and  I  was 
as  glad  to  share  it  with  Pancoast  and  his  family,  as,  I 
know,  he  was  glad  to  share  it  with  me  and  my  family. 
No  jealousies  ever  existed  between  that  good  man  and 
me.  We  had  worked  together  shoulder  to  shoulder  for 
thirteen  years  for  the  good  of  the  school,  and  no  inikind 
word  had  ever  passed  between  us.  Our  pupils  knew  this 
well,  and  the  compliment  they  had  in  store  for  us  was 
therefore  so  much  the  more  gratifying  to  all  concerned. 
The  Public  Ledger  of  October  27th,  in  giving  a  report 


3i6  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

of  this  flattering  reunion,  uses  the  following  language  : 
"  It  was  graceful,  because  it  was  an  appropriate  tribute  to 
high  merit,  an  unmistakably  sincere  expression  of  deep 
regard  from  their  professional  brethren,  not  only  of  this 
city  but  of  our  great  sister  cities,  and  a  heart-warm  token 
of  affection  from  student  to  teacher,  from  the  entered  ap- 
prentices of  the  healing  craft  to  the  great  masters  of  the 
science.  The  festival  was  also  graced  by  the  presence  of 
ladies,  w^hose  brilliant  costumes  and  brighter  faces  gave  a 
charm  to  the  occasion  that  could  have  been  produced  in 
no  other  way.  The  whole  affair  had  heart  and  meaning 
in  it." 

In  response  to  an  address  of  welcome  by  Dr.  Addinell 
Hewson,  I  spoke  as  follows  : 

"Allow  me,  Mr.  President,  to  thank  you  most  cordially 
for  the  kind  words  just  addressed  to  me  through  your  elo- 
quent spokesman,  and  for  the  enthusiastic  manner  in 
which  they  have  been  received  by  your  distinguished 
guests.  Such  a  welcome  is  eminently  grateful  to  our  feel- 
ings, and  it  is  difficult  for  me  to  find  language  to  express 
my  own  sense  of  gratitude.  The  announcement,  soon  after 
my  arrival  from  Eiirope,  that  it  was  the  intention  of  the 
alumni  and  pupils  of  my  Alma  Mater  to  give  my  colleague, 
Professor  Pancoast,  and  myself  a  public  reception  took  me, 
I  confess  emphatically,  by  surprise.  I  was  wholly  unpre- 
pared for  such  an  honor.  Now  that  I  stand  in  the  pres- 
ence of  this  large  assembly  of  my  fellow-citizens,  members 
of  the  learned  professions,  the  mercantile  community,  and 
the  various  walks  of  literature,  the  arts,  and  sciences,  the 
question  naturally  arises.  What  have  I  done  to  merit  this 
distinguished  honor  ?  Is  it  because  I  was  temporarily  ab- 
sent in  Europe  ?  Is  it  because  of  anything  good  or  great 
that  I  did  before  I  went  abroad  ?  If  I  were  a  great  general, 
just  returned  from  the  battlefield  covered  with  glory  and 
crowned  with  laurels,  I  could  readily  comprehend  the  rea- 
son for  such  a  mark  of  your  attention.     But  I  am  neither  a 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  317 

warrior  nor  a  statesman,  and  have  not  been  in  any  battle, 
nor  did  I  during  my  absence  negotiate  any  treaty  of  peace, 
of  amity,  or  of  commerce  with  any  foreign  power.  I  went 
abroad  and  returned  as  a  common  citizen,  proud,  it  is  true, 
of  my  profession  and  of  my  country. 

"  But  although  I  am  neither  a  warrior  nor  a  statesman, 
nor  able  to  lay  claim  to  any  great  discover}'  or  improve- 
ment in  my  profession,  I  may  confidently  assert,  without 
fear  of  successful  contradiction,  that  there  is  no  man  who 
has  watched  that  profession  with  a  more  jealous  eye,  or 
who  has  taken  a  deeper  interest  in  its  prosperity,  its  honor, 
and  its  dignity  than  I  have.  My  loyalty  and  devotion  have 
never  flagged.  In  all  my  intercourse  I  have  never  wilfully 
wronged  any  human  being,  or  done  aught  to  cast  discredit 
upon  its  escutcheon.  What  Strabo  said  of  the  poet  is 
equally  true  of  the  physician ;  no  bad  man  can  be  the  one 
or  the  other.  I  have  ever  scrupulously  respected  the  Hip- 
pocratic  oath. 

' '  It  was  but  a  few  weeks  ago  that  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
witnessing  the  proceedings  and  ceremonies  attendant  upon 
the  presentation  of  the  freedom  of  the  city  of  Edinburgh  to 
General  Lord  Napier,  with  whose  exploits  in  Abyssinia,  in 
asserting  the  supremacy  of  the  British  army,  every  one  is 
familiar.  It  was  pleasant  to  see  the  enthusiasm  with 
which  this  distinguished  soldier  was  welcomed,  and  the 
kindly  feeling  which  was  from  all  sides  showered  upon 
him.  Though  he  could  not  lay  claim  to  the  honor  of 
being  a  native  of  the  city,  he  was  nevertheless  greeted  as  a 
countryman,  and  the  highest  civic  distinction  in  the  gift 
of  the  Scotch  metropolis,  so  renowned  for  its  illustrious 
citizens,  was  freely  awarded  to  him  for  the  great  and  sig- 
nal services  he  had  rendered  his  native  land.  The  swell- 
ing emotions  which  animated  the  breast  of  the  hero  of 
Magdala  as  he  stood  before  that  grand  audience  assembled 
to  do  him  honor  were  not  greater  than  those  which  I  ex- 
perience upon  this  occasion.     The  wreath  which  entwined 


3i8  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

his  brow  was  not  dearer  to  him  than  this  free  offering  of 
your  esteem  and  kindness  is  to  me.  I  have  accepted  this 
honor  at  your  hands  because,  as  was  so  gracefully  ex- 
pressed in  the  invitation  of  your  gifted  young  secretary,  it 
was  designed  as  an  exhibition  of  the  love  and  veneration 
felt  for  me  by  my  professional  brethren,  especially  by  the 
alumni  and  pupils  of  a  great  medical  college  with  whose 
interests  and  prosperity  my  own  have  been  closely  identi- 
fied for  the  last  thirteen  years ;  an  institution  which  may 
boast  of  a  noble  parentage — of  belonging,  in  fact,  to  one 
of  the  '  first  families, '  the  daughter  of  a  school  of  which 
any  land  might  justly  be  proud.  I  refer  to  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania. 

"I  have  accepted  this  honor  because  it  is  the  highest 
tribute  which  a  man  can  receive  from  his  fellow-citizens 
and  from  the  members  of  our  own  profession.  I  need  not 
say  how  deeply  sensible  I  am  of  your  kindness.  I  rejoice  to 
be  again  in  the  midst  of  those  with  whom  I  have  so  long 
labored  to  uphold  the  honor  and  dignity  of  our  noble  profes- 
sion, and  in  whose  personal  success  I  shall  ever  feel  a  deep, 
nay,  let  me  add,  a  parental  interest.  It  is  to  me  no  less 
gratifying  than  it  is  true,  to  be  able  to  say  that,  during  my 
visit  abroad,  where  I  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  many 
of  our  most  distinguished  brethren  in  the  Old  World,  I  saw 
no  more  able,  learned,  or  skilful  practitioners,  teachers, 
and  writers  than  are  assembled  here  to-night.  I  think, 
sir,  that  if  a  traveller  learned  nothing  more  than  to  appre- 
ciate fully  his  country's  greatness,  he  would  be  amply 
compensated  for  the  peril  and  expense  of  his  voyage  across 
the  Atlantic.  As  God  made  woman  more  beautiful  and 
perfect  than  man,  because  He  created  her  last,  so  He  en- 
dowed this  continent — this  last  and  best  gift  to  the  human 
race — ^with  beauty  and  perfection  nowhere  visible  in  the 
Old  World. 

"Every  one  acknowledges  with  a  hearty  free  will  the 
extraordinary  activity  and  enterprise  of  our  physicians  and 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  319 

surgeons  and  the  rapid  strides  wliicli  we  are  developing  in 
our  national  literature.  Chassaignac,  the  great  French 
surgeon,  said  to  my  honored  colleague  and  m^-self,  in  one 
of  our  visits  to  the  famous  Lariboisiere  Hospital,  '  You  have 
just  reason  to  be  proud  of  your  countr}\  America  at  this 
moment  wields  the  surgical  sceptre  of  the  world.'  Our 
militar}^  surgeons  have  no  equals.  The  reports  of  the  Sur- 
geon-General of  the  United  States  are  read  with  avidity, 
and  American  works  on  medicine  and  surger>'  are  used  in 
the  medical  libraries  of  Europe. 

"  Although  it  would  not  be  fair  to  judge  a  man's  know- 
ledge by  the  number  of  books  he  reads,  yet  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  the  more  labor  of  this  kind  which  he  per- 
forms, the  more  likely  is  his  intelligence  to  be  complete.  It 
was  pleasing  to  hear  our  profession  spoken  of  in  terms  of 
high  respect  and  commendation.  As  a  nation,  America 
commands  admiration.  The  works  of  Kent  and  Story  are 
in  ever}^  lawyer's  library  in  Great  Britain  ;  and  the  writings 
of  Barnes,  Hodge,  Channing,  and  other  divines  are  to  be 
found  on  the  shelves  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland, 

"It  may  be  recollected  that  I  was  commissioned  at  the 
last  meeting  of  the  American  Medical  Association  at 
Washington  to  represent  that  body  in  the  British  Medical 
Association  at  its  meeting  last  iVugust  at  Oxford,  That 
meeting  v/as  largely  attended ;  many  of  the  members  were 
men  of  great  eminence  and  learning,  and  every  opportunity 
was  embraced  by  them  to  speak  in  the  kindest  manner  of 
their  American  brethren.  Our  delegates  received  a  hearty 
welcome,  and  everything  was  done  to  make  them  comfort- 
able and  happy  during  their  sojourn  at  that  great  seat  of 
learning.  From  what  transpired,  there  is  reason  to  believe 
that  the  Association  will  now  be  annually  represented  on 
this  side  of  the  water. 

"There  is  one  thing  that  strikes  an  American  in  view- 
ing the  great  literary  and  scientific  and  charitable  institu- 
tions of  Europe  with  admiration  such  as  he  cannot  feel  for 


320    AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  SAMUEL  D.  GROSS,  M.D, 

his  own.  It  is  the  respect  which  is  everywhere  shown  to 
the  memory  of  their  great  and  good  men.  Portraits,  busts, 
and  statues  adorn  alike  the  halls  of  learning  and  of  legisla- 
tion, the  courts  of  justice,  the  gallery,  the  hospital,  and 
the  medical  school  ;  and  thus  serve  to  inspire  the  visitor 
not  only  with  a  love  for  his  particular  pursuit,  but  an  am- 
bition to  excel  in  good  works,  and  an  admiration  for  a 
people  who  know  how  to  reward  their  servants  while 
living,  and  to  cherish  the  memory  of  their  virtues  after 
they  are  dead. 

"In  the  hall  of  Christ  Church  College,  Oxford,  at  the 
great  dinner  of  the  British  Medical  Association,  I  felt,  in 
responding  to  the  toast  kindly  offered  in  compliment  to  the 
American  delegation,  as  if  every  portrait  in  the  large  and 
majestic  room  were  watching  me  and  saying,  '  Hear !  hear  ! 
hear ! '  and  felt  as  if  ten  centuries  were  looking  down  upon 
that  grand  and  learned  assembly.  In  our  city,  so  distin- 
guished for  its  charitable,  literary,  and  scientific  institu- 
tions, there  is  a  singular  absence  of  everything  of  this 
kind.  We  ha\'e  not  one  solitary  monument  of  a  great 
man,  not  even  of  Washington  or  of  Franklin,  to  inspire 
our  youth  with  ambition  or  to  warm  the  heart  of  a  stranger 
as  he  walks  along  our  streets. 

"But  I  must  not  prolong  these  remarks.  Already  I 
have  trespassed  too  much  upon  your  patience.  However, 
before  I  take  my  seat,  permit  me  again,  Mr.  President,  to 
thank  you,  and  through  you  this  large  assembly  of  good 
and  great  men,  for  the  honor  they  have  done  me  in  coming 
here  this  evening.  I  have  been  the  recipient  of  perhaps  as 
many  compliments  as  a  man  of  my  age  and  of  my  humble 
position  could  expect,  but  of  all  that  have  been  bestowed 
upon  me,  this  is  the  most  precious  to  my  feelings,  and  the 
one  which  will  be  most  cherished  by  my  family  long  after 
I  shall  have  gone  to  '  that  undiscovered  country  from  whose 
bourne  no  traveller  returns.'  " 


CHAPTER   XII. 

SECOND  VISIT  TO   EUROPE — RECEIVE   DEGREE   OF   D.  C.  L.   FROM.  THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF    OXFORD OXFORD — PRINCE    HASSAN — THE    UNIVERSITY — THE    MUSEUM — 

THE  RADCLIFFE  LIBRARY — EDWARD  BOUVERIE  PUSEY — HENRY  WENTWORTH 
ACLAND — SIR  BENJAMIN  BRODIE,  BART. — LONDON — PRESENTED  AT  COURT — 
SIR  HENRY  HOLLAND,  BART. — ^THOMAS  BEVILL  PEACOCK — ST.  THOMAS'S  HOS- 
PITAL  THE     ARCHBISHOP     OF     CANTERBURY DAWLISH NUTWELL     COURT 

TORQUAY — BIRMINGHAM — LICHFIELD — THE  SHOOTING  SEASON — RETURN  TO 
AMERICA. 

Early  in  May,  1872,  I  received  a  letter  from  my  friend, 
Professor  Acland,  of  Oxford,  informing  me  that,  if  I  could 
be  present  on  Commemoration  Day,  in  June,  the  Univer- 
sity would  confer  upon  me  the  degree  of  D.  C.  L.  He  said 
that,  if  it  had  been  known  in  time  that  I  would  be  at  Ox- 
ford in  August,  1868,  during  the  meeting  of  the  British 
Medical  Association,  when  that  degree  was  conferred  upon 
Sir  James  Paget,  Sir  Thomas  Locock,  Sir  William  Gull, 
Sir  William  Jenner,  Professor  James  Syme,  and  Professor 
William  Stokes,  I  would  have  been  included  in  the  list. 
As  my  dear  wife  was  in  poor  health,  rendering  it  probable 
that  change  of  air  would  be  of  great  service  to  her,  I  had 
thus  a  double  motive  for  visiting  Europe  a  second  time. 

My  wife,  my  son  A.  Haller  Gross,  and  myself  left 
Philadelphia  on  the  26th  of  May,  having  previously  en- 
gaged our  passage  on  the  steamer  Russia,  which  sailed 
the  next  day  from  New  York.  Nothing  of  importance 
occurred  during  the  voyage  except  that  the  vessel  en- 
countered some  rough  weather,  and  that  we  were  all 
three  seasick,  a  fate  which  we  experienced  during  our  first 
visit.  The  vessel  reached  Liverpool  on  Friday,  June  7th. 
The  next  day  we  were  off  for  Oxford,  where  we  arrived 
late  in  the  afternoon  in  a  cold,  drenching  rain.  Professor 
I— 41  321 


323 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


Acland  being  kindly  in  waiting.  The  commencement  ex- 
ercises of  the  different  colleges  took  place  the  following 
week. 

On  Wednesday  the  one-thousandth  Commemoration  Day 
of  the  University  was  celebrated.  Shortly  after  half  past 
eleven  o'clock  the  officers  of  the  institution  entered  the 
Sheldonian  Theatre,  headed  by  the  mace-bearers,  and  im- 
mediately followed  by  the  Vice-Chancellor,  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Liddell,  the  doctors  and  the  heads  of  houses,  the  proctors 
and  registrar  bringing  up  the  rear.  My  son  and  I  had  se- 
cured good  positions,  so  that  we  had  a  full  view  of  the 
procession.  ' '  The  organ  struck  up  as  the  great  gates  were 
flung  open,  and  'God  save  the  Queen'  was  sung  lustily 
while  the  grave  and  reverend  seigniors  took  their  places. ' ' 
The  Vice-Chancellor,  a  man  of  splendid  physique,  well 
known  in  this  country  as  one  of  the  authors  of  Liddell  & 
Scott's  Greek  Dictionary,  a  work  of  wide  celebrity,  then 
explained  in  a  Latin  speech  that  the  object  of  the  convo- 
cation was  the  delivery  of  an  oration  in  accordance  with 
the  will  of  that  excellent  benefactor.  Lord  Crewe,  followed 
by  the  recitations  of  the  prizemen.  Although  the  amphi- 
theatre for  nearly  two  hours  before  the  procession  entered 
was  a  bedlam  of  uproar  and  rude  disorder  only  equalled  by 
the  noise  and  confusion  in  the  House  of  Commons  when 
some  unfortunate  wight  rises  to  speak,  from  the  moment 
the  Vice-Chancellor  took  his  seat  till  he  uttered  the  final 
words,  "  Dissolvimus  hanc  convocationem,"  not  a  sound 
was  heard  except  the  ordinary  applause  enthusiastically 
given  at  the  conclusion  of  each  recitation.  The  audience 
was  large,  and  comprised  many  fashionable  and  influential 
persons  of  both  sexes,  a  large  number  of  whom  came 
from  a  distance.  The  exercises,  on  the  whole,  did  not 
impress  me  favorably.  They  were  cold  and  formal,  and 
not  at  all  in  harmony  with  what  we  witness  on  like  occa- 
sions on  our  side  of  the  Atlantic.  The  undergraduates, 
the  lords  of  the  galler>',  behaved  more  like  rowdies  than 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  323 

civilized  beings.  It  was  evidently  their  "free  day," 
on  which  they  felt  at  liberty  to  do  pretty  much  what 
they  pleased.  Hardly  any  person  entered  without  being 
cheered,  and  not  a  few  were  hissed.  "  The  lady  in  blue," 
"The  lady  in  black,"  "The  lady  with  the  white  ostrich 
feather  in  her  hat, "  "  The  lady  with  the  cashmere  shawl, ' ' 
and  similar  expressions  resounded  from  every  part  of  the 
large  theatre.  That  all  this  noise  should  have  been  suc- 
ceeded by  profound  silence  upon  the  entrance  of  the  heads 
of  the  University  was  astounding,  and  yet  such  was  the  fact. 
On  Thursday,  June  13th,  at  eleven  o'clock,  a  special 
convocation  was  held  at  the  Sheldonian  Theatre  for  con- 
ferring the  honorary  degrees  upon  the  following  gentle- 
men : 

1.  His  Highness  Prince  Hassan,  son  of  the  Khedive  of 
Egypt. 

2.  George  Burrows,  M.  D.,  Caius  College,  Cambridge, 
President  of  the  Royal  College  of  Physicians  of  London, 
and  formerly  President  of  the  General  Medical  Council. 

3.  Sir  Benjamin  Brodie,  Bart,  M.  A.,  late  Professor  of 
Chemistry. 

4.  Samuel  David  Gross,  M.  D.,  LL.  D.,  Professor  of 
Surgery  in  the  Jefferson  Medical  College  of  Philadelphia. 

These  were  the  only  exercises  performed  on  the  occasion. 
Each  candidate  as  his  name  was  called  was  addressed  in 
Latin  by  the  usher,  after  which  he  mounted  the  platform 
and  shook  hands  with  the  Vice-Chancellor ;  and  thus  ended 
a  ceremony  which  to  most  persons  must  have  seemed  very 
tame.  No  diplomas  were  issued  to  the  recipients  of  these 
honors.  Each  candidate,  arrayed  in  the  customan,'  red 
gown,  with  white  gloves,  and  a  four-cornered  hat  in  hand, 
was  cheered  as  his  name  was  announced.  I  may  add  that 
a  special  day  was  chosen  for  these  exercises,  because  the 
year  before  the  authorities  had  great  difficulty,  on  Com- 
memoration Day,  in  securing  order,  and  it  was  apprehended 
that  there  might  be  a  recurrence  of  the  turbulence. 


324  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

In  the  evening  the  Commemoration  Dinner  was  given 
in  the  great  dining-hall  of  the  University,  the  Vice-Chan- 
cellor,  Rev.  Dr.  Liddell,  occupying  the  chair,  supported 
on  the  right  by  Dean  Stanley  and  on  the  left  by  Lord 
Roseberry.  My  seat  was  in  front  of  the  Vice-Chancellor's, 
and  on  my  right  sat  Sir  Thomas  Gladstone,  brother  of  the 
Premier,  a  member  of  Parliament,  and  a  large  landholder 
in  the  north  of  Scotland,  his  residence.  Several  speeches 
were  made,  the  best  of  which  was  that  of  Dean  Stanley ; 
and  the  entertainment  was  to  me,  stranger  as  I  was,  a 
very  pleasant  one.  My  neighbor,  Sir  Thomas,  was  quite 
chatty.  He  made  some  complimentary  remarks  respecting 
the  United  States,  and  gave  me  a  cordial  invitation  to  visit 
him  at  his  home  in  the  Highlands,  to  see  his  lands  and 
especially  his  sheep,  of  which,  he  said,  he  had  large  flocks 
of  the  choicest  varieties.  About  one  hundred  gentlemen 
sat  down  to  dinner. 

A  few  evenings  after  the  anniversary,  Prince  Hassan 
gave  a  splendid  entertainment  to  the  heads  of  colleges 
and  to  the  citizens  of  Oxford.  Many  invited  guests 
were  present,  and  the  occasion  was  one  of  general 
merry-making.  Temporary  buildings  were  erected  under 
canvas  for  the  accommodation  of  the  immense  crowd ; 
the  choicest  flowers  were  everywhere  seen  in  profusion ; 
dancing  commenced  early  and  was  kept  up  until  a  late 
hour  in  the  morning;  and  ices  and  fruits  were  served 
durinof  the  entire  evening.  The  whole  affair  was  bril- 
liant,  worthy  of  the  son  of  a  great  prince  rolling  in  wealth 
and  luxury.  Young  Hassan,  I  was  informed,  spent  his 
money  lavishly  while  a  member  of  the  University,  and 
this,  added  to  his  gentle  manners,  was  doubtless  the  secret 
of  his  popularity.  In  his  appearance  there  was  nothing 
whatever  of  a  prepossessing  character.  He  was  of  small 
stature,  with  a  rather  dark  complexion,  and  his  counte- 
nance showed  no  evidence  of  intellect  or  special  culture. 
He  was   simply  a  clever   youth,  using   the  word  in  the 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  325 

American,  not  the  English,  sense.  It  was  his  father's 
desire  that,  on  leaving  the  University,  he  should  spend 
several  years  in  travel  and  foreign  study.  In  1877  I 
learned  to  my  surprise  that  the  young  Prince,  after  having 
acquired  a  military  education  at  Woolwich  and  Berlin, 
had  been  made  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  Egyptian  con- 
tingent on  the  Danube,  and  had  already  acquired  some 
experience  as  a  soldier.  It  is  related  of  him  that,  being 
taken  prisoner  by  King  John  of  Abyssinia,  a  large  cross 
was,  as  a  punishment,  tattooed  on  the  back  of  each  of 
his  hands.  In  vain  did  he  seek  after  his  release  the  advice 
of  the  most  skilful  physicians  to  rid  him  of  these  disagree- 
able reminders  of  his  capture,  and  rather  than  take  the 
advice  of  the  dervdsh  who  suggested  the  unique  remedy  of 
the  amputation  of  both  hands  he  is  said  to  seek  to  hide 
the  blemishes  by  wearing  gloves. 

There  is  much  in  and  about  Oxford  to  interest  a  stran- 
ger. The  town  itself,  wnth  its  ancient  wall,  its  quaint 
buildings,  its  botanic  garden,  and  its  charming  situation 
upon  the  banks  of  the  Cherwell  and  the  Isis,  is  well 
worth  a  visit ;  but  the  interest  is  vastly  increased  when 
we  remember  that  the  city  is  the  seat  of  the  greatest  Uni- 
versity, not  only  in  Great  Britain,  but  in  the  world — em- 
bracing within  less  than  a  mile  and  a  half  in  diameter 
upwards  of  twenty  separate  college  edifices,  many  of  them 
dating  back  six  to  eight  centuries,  all  erected  on  a  grand 
scale,  with  ample  accommodations  for  their  pupils  and  fel- 
lows, and  surrounded,  for  the  most  part,  by  spacious 
grounds,  embellished  with  trees,  shrubber\',  and  flowers. 
The  very  atmosphere  exhales  a  classical  odor.  It  is  the 
place  where,  above  all  others,  one  would  like  to  be  edu- 
cated and  to  pursue  one's  studies  in  after-life.  Lately 
several  new  colleges  have  been  added,  so  that  the  number 
of  colleges  and  halls  at  present  is  not  fewer,  if  my  memory 
serves  me,  than  twenty-four.  Among  the  more  interesting 
objects  to  the  visitor  to  Oxford  are  its  libraries  and  Uni- 


336  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

versity  Museum.  The  Museum  is  a  noble  quadrangular 
edifice  in  the  mediaeval  style,  situated  upon  a  large  lot  of 
ground,  and  was  opened  in  1868.  It  contains  already  an 
immense  collection  of  specimens  in  the  various  branches  of 
natural  history,  botany,  and  zoology,  and  is  provided  with 
numerous  lecture-rooms  for  the  efficient  teaching  of  the 
natural  sciences.  Indeed,  the  object  in  erecting  this  vast 
building  was  that  it  should  serve  as  a  great  school  for 
the  study  of  the  natural  sciences  under  the  leadership  of 
separate  professors — men  devoted  to  the  cultivation  and 
illustration  of  specialties.  To  the  disinterested  and  ardu- 
ous exertions  of  my  friend.  Professor  Acland,  the  institu- 
tion is  much  indebted  for  the  success  which  has  attended 
it  since  its  opening.  Unfortunately  the  outlays  have  been 
very  heavy ;  and  I  have  recently  learned  that  the  manage- 
ment is  somewhat  crippled  for  the  want  of  funds  to  place 
the  Museum  upon  a  proper  footing. 

Of  the  four  principal  libraries  at  Oxford,  the  most  note- 
worthy is  the  Bodleian,  opened  in  1602,  and  comprising 
at  present  nearly  three  hundred  thousand  volumes.  The 
Radcliffe  Librar}^,  founded  in  the  eighteenth  century,  was 
endowed  under  the  will  of  Dr.  John  Radcliffe,  who  left 
forty  thousand  pounds  for  that  purpose,  besides  one  hun- 
dred pounds  a  year  for  its  increase,  and  one  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  as  a  salary  for  the  librarian.  The  collection, 
which  has  been  steadily  growing  in  extent  and  value,  was 
originally  largely  composed  of  works  on  medicine  and  nat- 
ural history.  In  addition  to  this  munificent  bequest,  Rad- 
cliffe left  a  large  sum  of  money  for  the  establishment  of  an 
observatory,  with  a  dwelling-house  for  the  resident,  and  a 
lecture-room  furnished  with  all  the  means  and  appliances 
necessary  for  the  study  and  illustration  of  astronomy.  It 
is  flattering  to  one's  vanity  to  know  that  a  physician — one 
who  rose  to  great  distinction  by  the  force  of  his  own 
genius  —  did  all  these  things  for  this  noble  institu- 
tion.    Radcliffe  was  emphatically  the  architect  of  his  own 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  327 

fortune.  Bom  in  1650,  he  entered  University  College, 
Oxford,  at  fifteen,  became  B.  M.  in  1675,  and  M.  D.  in 
1682,  and  soon  acquired  an  extensive,  lucrative,  and  influen- 
tial practice.  Before  he  had  attained  middle  age  he  re- 
moved to  London,  where  he  soon  laid  the  foundation  of 
the  large  wealth  which  he  so  wisely  devoted  to  educa- 
tional purposes.  Although  he  possessed  more  than  ordi- 
nary talents  and  attainments,  he  was  coarse  and  brusque 
in  his  manners,  sometimes  indeed  almost  brutal,  often  in- 
dulged in  ill-timed  jests,  and  probably  said  more  rude 
things  than  any  physician  before  or  since  his  day.  His 
remarks  to  King  William  were  characteristic.  It  is  related 
that  when  his  Majesty,  showing  him  his  swollen  ankles, 
which  formed  a  striking  contrast  to  his  emaciated  body, 
asked  him,  ' '  Doctor,  what  do  you  think  of  these  ?"  "  Why, 
truly,"  said  he,  "I  would  not  have  your  Majesty's  two 
legs  for  your  three  kingdoms." 

Radcliffe  is  not  the  only  physician  whose  name  and  mu- 
nificence are  indissolubly  associated  with  this  great  insti- 
tution. Dr.  Thomas  Linacre,  born  nearly  two  centuries 
previously,  endowed  two  lectureships  on  medicine  in  Mer- 
ton  College,  Oxford;  and  another  in  St.  John's  College, 
Cambridge.  He  was  distinguished  for  his  learning  and 
practical  skill,  and  immortalized  himself  as  the  founder 
of  the  Royal  College  of  Physicians  of  London.  An 
eminent  Greek  scholar,  he  was  the  first  Professor  of  Greek 
in  the  University  of  Oxford,  in  which  he  delivered  lectures 
on  medicine ;  and  he  furnished  an  elegant  translation  of 
the  works  of  Galen.  After  his  removal  to  London  he 
rapidly  rose  in  reputation  and  influence,  and  was  appointed 
court  physician  by  Henr\'  VHI. 

What  Linacre  and  Radcliffe  did  for  Oxford  Dr.  John 
Kaye,  more  generally  known  by  his  Latinized  name  of 
Cains,  did  for  Cambridge.  Born  in  15 10,  he  was  succes- 
sively physician  to  Edward  VI.,  Queen  Mary,  and  Queen 
Elizabeth ;  enjoyed  great  distinction  as  a  practitioner,  au- 


328  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

thor,  antiquarian,  Greek  and  Latin  scholar ;  and  founded 
Caius  College,  Cambridge,  which,  to  use  the  language  of 
another,  "is  to  this  day  the  chief  medical  college  in  that 
celebrated  University."  To  these  great  men  England,  it 
is  said,  is  greatly  indebted  for  important  advances  in  her 
literature  soon  after  the  revival  of  learning ;  yet  Shakes- 
peare caricatured  Caius  in  his  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor, 
very  much  as  Aristophanes  caricatured  Socrates  in  his 
play  of  the  Clouds. 

During  our  sojourn  at  Oxford  constant  attentions  were 
showered  upon  us  by  prominent  citizens  and  by  members 
of  the  University.  Among  these  none  were  more  kind  and 
considerate  than  the  Acland  family,  who,  from  the  mo- 
ment of  our  arrival  until  the  time  of  our  departure,  more 
than  a  fortnight  after,  could  apparently  not  do  enough 
for  us.  We  were  welcome  in  this  family  alike  at  break- 
fast, dinner,  and  at  tea,  as  well  as  at  every  hour  of  the  day 
and  evening.  At  the  social  gatherings  of  the  Vice-Chan- 
cellor  and  of  his  accomplished  wife  and  daughters  we  met 
many  distinguished  personages ;  and  at  Professor  Rolles- 
ton's  I  had  the  pleasure  of  dining  with  Dr.,  now  Sir, 
George  Burrows,  President  of  the  Royal  College  of  Physi- 
cians of  London,  and  with  Mrs.  Burrows,  a  daughter  of 
Mr.  John  Abernethy,  the  celebrated  London  surgeon,  who 
rendered  such  important  services  to  his  profession,  and  of 
whom  so  many  odd  sayings  and  curious  anecdotes  have 
been  related.  The  presence  of  the  daughter,  a  charming 
woman,  served  to  recall  to  us,  during  and  after  the  repast, 
the  vivacity  and  flashes  of  genius  of  her  illustrious  father. 
Mrs.  RoUeston  is  a  daughter  of  Dr.  John  Davy,  and  a 
niece  of  Sir  Humphry.  Her  husband,  a  fine  conversa- 
tionalist, an  accomplished  scholar,  an  eminent  scientist, 
and  a  follower  of  Darwin  and  Huxley,  is  Professor  of 
Phj'^siology  in  the  University. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  persons  I  met  with  at  Ox- 
ford was  Dr.  Pusey,  one  of  the  authors  of  the  celebrated 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  329 

Tracts  for  the  Times.  He  had  been  confiued  for  some 
weeks  by  a  species  of  felon  upon  one  of  his  fingers,  for 
which  he  was  attended  by  my  friend  Acland.  Having 
heard  me  express  a  strong  desire  to  see  so  celebrated 
and  learned  a  personage,  one  who  had  acquired  so  great 
a  reputation  by  his  controversial  writings,  that  gentle- 
man kindly  took  me,  early  one  morning,  to  Dr.  Pusey's 
room.  We  found  the  divine  seated  in  his  arm-chair,  in 
a  dreamy  mood,  unshaved,  and  not  particularly  neat  in  his 
toilet.  He  was  an  old-looking  man,  of  medium  height, 
with  a  pleasing  countenance  shaded  by  heavy  eyebrows, 
and  a  soft,  agreeable  voice.  The  conversation  turned 
upon  the  topics  of  the  day,  in  which  he  seemingly  took 
little  interest.  After  having  sat  for  about  fifteen  minutes, 
during  which  we  carefully  inspected  the  disloyal  finger, 
and  offered  some  suggestions  respecting  its  treatment,  we 
took  our  leave.  I  had  seen  in  person  the  author  of  Pusey- 
ism,  and  that  was  something  to  be  proud  of.  At  the  time 
of  this  interview  Dr.  Pusey  was  seventy-two  years  of  age, 
having  been  born  in  1800.  He  looked  decidedly  older; 
hard  mental  labor  and  mental  excitement  had  evidently 
made  serious  inroads  upon  his  constitution. 

I  had  been  entertained  at  the  house  of  Dr.  Acland  four 
years  previously  during  the  meeting  of  the  British  Medical 
Association,  and  it  was  therefore  a  source  of  no  little  grati- 
fication to  me  to  greet  him  again.  Of  all  my  English 
friends  there  is  not  one  for  whom  I  cherish  a  warmer 
attachment.  Of  a  highly  respectable  family,  the  son  of 
Sir  Thomas  Acland,  of  Devonshire,  his  name  has  long  been 
intimately  associated  with  the  interests  of  the  University 
of  Oxford  and  of  the  medical  profession  in  Great  Britain. 
For  many  years  he  has  been  Regius  Professor  of  Medicine 
in  the  University,  and  at  the  time  above  referred  to  he  was 
President  of  the  British  Medical  Association,  and  of  course 
presided  at  the  annual  dinner.  Much  of  what  he  has  writ- 
ten of  late  years  relates  to  sanitary  medicine;  and  there 


330  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF 

is  no  physician  in  England,  with  the  exception  of  Mr. 
Simon,  who  has  done  so  much  as  he  has  to  popularize 
that  branch  of  science.  Since  my  last  visit.  Dr.  Acland 
was  appointed  President  of  the  General  Council  of  Medi- 
cal Education,  a  government  office  of  which  any  man 
might  justly  be  proud,  as  it  is  one  of  the  highest  positions 
to  which  he  can  aspire.  He  has  a  large  and  influential 
practice,  and  is  Honorary  Physician  to  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
whom,  in  his  visit  to  this  country  in  i860,  he  accompanied 
as  medical  adviser.  I  may  add  that  he  is  emphatically  a 
friend  of  progress,  and  a  live  man  in  every  sense  of  the 
term. 

Sir  Benjamin  Brodie,  who  was  associated  with  me  in 
the  D.  C.  L.  decoration,  is  a  son  of  the  famous  surgeon, 
the  late  Sir  Benjamin  Collins  Brodie,  who  occupied  for 
nearly  half  a  century  so  large  a  space  in  the  professional 
and  public  eye  of  Great  Britain,  and  whose  writings,  sur- 
gical and  physiological,  have  been  so  widely  disseminated 
and  highly  appreciated  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  as  to 
render  his  name  a  household  word.  The  son,  not  having 
imbibed  any  taste  for  surgery,  has  not  followed  in  the  foot- 
steps of  his  father.  He  has  sought  out  other  paths  for 
the  exercise  of  his  talents.  Soon  after  I  left  Oxford 
the  public  journals  announced  that  he  had  resigned  the 
chair  of  Chemistry  which  he  had  so  worthily  filled  for  a 
number  of  years  in  the  University.  My  dear  wife,  my 
son,  and  myself  brought  away  with  us  pleasant  recollec- 
tions of  the  evening  we  spent  with  his  charming  and 
accomplished  family  at  his  beautiful  villa  near  the  banks 
of  the  Isis.  I  learned  that  Sir  Benjamin  had  been  an 
industrious  worker  in  his  laboratory,  and  had  lectured 
with  much  acceptableness  to  his  pupils.  Daubeny,  the 
great  botanist,  had  died  some  time  before  our  visit.  His 
humble  tomb,  bearing  a  simple  inscription,  is  in  the  court- 
yard of  one  of  the  colleges,  a  short  distance  from  the  gar- 
den in  which  he  spent  so  much  of  his  time  and  wrote  some 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  331 

of  his  ablest  works.  No  flowers  decorated  his  grave.  He 
was  a  bachelor,  and  bachelors  are  soon  forgotten.  Profes- 
sor Phillips,  the  eminent  geologist,  a  small,  old,  delicate- 
looking  man,  rather  inclined  to  reticency,  I  met  several 
times,  but  was  not  particularly  impressed  with  his  appear- 
ance, manners,  or  conversation. 

The  medical  schools  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  although 
ofiicered  by  some  very  able  men,  as,  for  instance,  Acland 
and  Rolleston  in  the  fonner,  and  Humphry  and  Paget  in 
the  latter,  are  small,  as  stated  in  a  former  page,  most  of  the 
graduates  of  the  University  preferring  to  seek  their  medi- 
cal knowledge  in  London  and  Edinburgh,  owing  to  their 
greater  facilities  for  the  study  of  anatomy  and  clinical 
medicine.  Botany,  zoology,  and  comparative  anatomy 
are  included  in  the  curriculum  of  both  institutions ;  and 
in  each  there  are  a  number  of  competitive  scholarships. 
At  Oxford  a  Radcliffe  travelling  fellowship  of  two  hundred 
pounds  is  annually  competed  for,  to  enable  the  successful 
candidate  to  continue  his  medical  pursuits  abroad.  The 
period  of  study  is  three  years. 

We  left  Oxford  for  London  in  June  and  went  into  lodg- 
ings at  No.  8  Princes  Street,  opposite  the  Hotel  Brunswick, 
a  fashionable  part  of  the  city.  On  Saturday,  the  2 2d, 
through  the  courtesy  of  the  American  Minister,  General 
Schenck,  I  was  able  to  attend  the  levee  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales  at  St.  James's  Palace,  having  previously  been  sup- 
plied by  the  Secretary  of  Legation,  IVIr.  IVIoran,  with  a 
ticket  of  admission,  accompanied  with  a  short  sword  and 
a  chapeau,  articles  always  required  on  such  occasions. 
The  event  was  to  me  as  novel  as  it  was  interesting.  The 
ceremonies  commenced  at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
The  Prince  stood  in  the  centre  of  a  long  room,  leaning 
with  his  back  gently  against  a  kind  of  railing,  and  each 
gentleman  as  he  approached  him  made  a  respectful  bow 
and  passed  on.  His  familiar  acquaintances  shook  hands 
with  him  and  exchanged  more  or  less  cordial  salutations. 


332 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


In  the  procession  I  was  immediately  behind  Dr.  Liddell, 
Vice-Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  his  former 
preceptor,  and  he  of  course  was  cordially  greeted.  The 
assemblage  was  a  large  one,  and  was  made  doubly  in- 
teresting by  the  attendance  of  the  foreign  ambassadors, 
arrayed  in  their  national  costumes.  The  Chinese,  Japan- 
ese, and  East  India  representatives  attracted  especial  atten- 
tion by  their  gay  colors  and  flowing  robes.  The  Prince 
himself  was  dressed  in  the  plainest  manner,  and  looked 
just  as  if  he  wished  the  thing  was  over. 

A  few  weeks  after  this  levee  I  met  the  Prince  at  a 
garden  party  at  Lauderdale  House,  Highgate,  six  miles 
from  London,  on  the  occasion  of  the  opening  of  the 
grounds  as  a  retreat  for  the  convalescent  patients  of  St. 
Bartholomew's  Hospital,  the  generous  gift  for  seven  years 
of  Sir  Sidney  Waterlow.  A  large  company  was  present, 
including  the  Princess  of  Wales,  a  number  of  the  nobility, 
and  many  prominent  citizens.  The  Prince,  who  accepted 
the  gift  in  behalf  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Hospital,  made 
a  brief  but  pertinent  address,  which  elicited  rapturous 
applause.  The  meeting  then  adjourned  to  the  grounds, 
where  refreshments  were  served  in  abundance,  enlivened 
by  conversation  and  music,  while  in  a  large  mansion  near 
by  the  Prince  and  Princess  received  their  friends.  Through 
the  courtesy  of  Sir  James  Paget  I  had  the  honor  of  being 
personally  presented  to  the  Prince  and  of  talking  with  him 
for  some  time,  during  which  he  was  kind  enough  to  refer 
to  my  Oxford  degree,  then  recently  conferred,  and  to  speak 
in  complimentary  terms  of  his  visit  to  this  country  in  i860. 
One  of  the  queerest  persons  present  on  this  interesting 
occasion  was  Lady  Burdett-Coutts,  the  wealthy  philan- 
thropist. She  patiently  waited  near  the  gate  for  the  arrival 
of  the  royal  party,  and  the  moment  they  approached  her 
she  made  a  courtesy  so  profound  that  her  knees  must  have 
almost  touched  the  pavement. 

We  dined  on  Monday,  June  24th,  wdth  Sir  Francis  and 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  333 

Lady  Drake,  the  proprietors  of  Nutwell  Court,  South 
Devon,  and  other  hereditary  estates,  once  the  property  of 
Sir  Francis  Drake,  the  great  navigator  in  the  reign  of 
Queen  Elizabeth.  Lady  Drake  is  the  daughter  of  Lady 
Douglas,  a  first  cousin  of  my  wife.  Sir  Francis  and  Lady 
Drake  always  pass  the  season  in  London,  and  of  course 
live  in  elegant  style.  The  dinner  on  this  occasion  was  a 
handsome  one.  Before  we  took  our  leave  they  extended 
to  us  a  cordial  invitation  to  spend  a  week  with  them  in 
July  at  Nutwell  Court. 

On  June  25th,  at  nine  o'clock,  I  breakfasted  with  Sir 
Henry  Holland,  at  his  residence  on  Upper  Brook  Street. 
My  first  interview  with  him  occurred  during  the  visit  of 
the  Prince  of  Wales  to  this  country,  in  i860,  at  a  dinner 
given  to  him  at  the  Philadelphia  Club  by  the  British  Con- 
sul, Mr.  Kortright.  Only  a  few  gentlemen  were  present. 
Dr.  Robley  Dunglison  had  been  invited,  but  was  unable  to 
attend  on  account  of  indisposition.  It  was,  if  I  mistake 
not.  Sir  Henry's  fifth  visit  to  the  United  States.  The  con- 
versation during  the  dinner  was  of  a  discursive  kind,  but 
the  principal  topic  was  the  Prince,  then  quite  a  youth — 
his  general  bearing,  his  sagacious  observations  as  a  tourist, 
his  keen  remarks,  the  dignity  of  his  demeanor,  and  matters 
of  a  similar  nature,  all  expressive  of  admiration  of  His 
Royal  Highness,  The  laudations  of  Sir  Henry,  who  ac- 
companied the  Prince  as  Physician-in-Chief,  were  especially 
emphatic ;  so  much  so,  indeed,  as  to  savor  somewhat  of 
snobbism.  How  I  might  have  been  impressed  if  I  had 
been  an  Englishman  I  do  not  know ;  but  looking  at  the 
matter  from  an  American  standpoint  it  was  impossible  to 
interpret  his  language  in  any  other  manner.  The  dinner 
in  the  main  was  a  dull  affair,  and  of  short  duration,  as  Sir 
Henry  had  a  pressing  engagement,  and  the  evening  was 
already  far  advanced  when  we  sat  down  at  table.  I  did 
not  meet  with  him  again  until  I  saw  him  at  his  own 
house  in  1872.     When  I  called  he  was  out ;  but  late  in 


334 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


the  afternoon  he  sent  me  a  note,  inviting  me  to  breakfast 
the  following  morning  at  nine  o'clock,  adding  that  Mr. 
Fronde,  the  historian,  would  be  the  only  other  person 
present,  apart  from  his  family,  which,  I  found,  consisted 
of  himself  and  of  two  maiden  daughters.  I  do  not  know 
whether  I  should  include  in  this  enumeration  a  favorite 
lap-dog,  of  which  one  of  the  ladies  in  particular  seemed 
to  be  extremely  fond.  Mr.  Froude  did  not  arrive  until 
the  breakfast,  consisting  of  tea,  toast,  eggs,  and  mutton- 
chops,  was  more  than  half  over,  saying,  by  way  of  excuse, 
that  he  had  been  buttonholed  by  an  old  friend  whom  he 
had  not  seen  for  a  long  time,  and  from  whom  he  could 
not  extricate  himself  sooner.  The  meal  was,  in  all  re- 
spects, an  informal  one,  and  therefore  quite  free  and 
easy.  Sir  Henry  inquired  with  special  solicitude  about 
the  health  of  his  old  friend,  Mrs.  Gilpin,  whose  guest  he 
had  been  during  some  of  his  visits  to  this  country,  and 
about  the  condition  and  prospects  of  our  colored  people, 
in  whose  welfare  he  appeared  to  take  more  than  ordinary 
interest.  Mr.  Froude,  who  had  very  little  to  say,  addressed 
himself  principally  to  the  ladies,  the  elder  of  whom  pre- 
sided with  great  dignity  at  the  head  of  the  table.  Precisely 
as  the  clock  struck  ten  Sir  Henry  excused  himself  and 
rose,  saying  he  was  obliged  to  fulfil  an  engagement.  The 
rest  of  us  sat  a  little  longer,  when,  after  an  interchange  of 
the  civilities  usual  on  such  an  occasion,  we  took  our  leave. 
At  the  door,  at  parting,  I  said  to  Mr.  Froude,  "I  under- 
stand you  are  coming  to  Philadelphia ;  if  so,  it  will  afford 
me  pleasure  to  renew  my  acquaintance  with  you,  and  to 
tender  to  you  the  hospitalities  of  my  house."  It  happened, 
however,  that  I  did  not  meet  with  him,  as  he  was  con- 
stantly on  the  wing  during  the  delivery  of  his  lectures  in 
New  York  and  Philadelphia.  His  lectures  failed  to  attract 
large  audiences,  and  my  impression  is  that  he  went  back 
disappointed,  as  he  came  on  a  pecuniary  speculation. 
Great  writers   are   not  always,   or  even   generally,   good 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  335 

speakers ;  and  a  lecturer,  if  he  has  not   some   oratorical 
ability,  may  as  well  be  silent. 

Sir  Henry  had  none  of  the  characteristics  of  a  great  man 
in  his  personal  appearance.  In  stature  he  was  scarcely  of 
medium  height,  and  his  head  exhibited  no  marks  of  ex- 
traordinary intellectual  development.  Yet  he  was  a  man 
of  decided  ability.  He  had  great  powers  of  observation, 
united  with  all  the  advantages  of  a  classical  education, 
high  culture,  and  high  social  position.  Taking  his  degree 
in  medicine  at  Edinburgh  at  the  time  when  that  school 
was  in  the  height  of  its  glor}',  he  soon  after  settled  in 
London,  where  he  rapidly  acquired  practice,  and  ultimately 
rose  to  the  highest  professional  eminence.  Knighted,  and 
appointed  physician  to  the  Queen,  honors,  foreign  and 
domestic,  were  showered  upon  him,  and  he  became  liter- 
ally a  child  of  Fortune.  That  he  was  an  accomplished 
practitioner,  full  of  resources  in  cases  of  emergency,  is 
well  known ;  and  his  Medical  Notes  and  Reflections,  pub- 
lished at  an  early  period  of  his  career,  show  him  to  have 
been  an  able  thinker  and  a  vigorous  writer.  INIuch  of  his 
professional  labor  was  consultation  practice  among  the  no- 
bility and  the  higher  circles  of  London  society.  For  many 
years  during  his  summer  vacation  he  spent  regularly  from 
two  to  three  months  in  travelling,  visiting  many  countries, 
some,  such  as  the  United  States,  repeatedly,  and  thus 
making  himself  personally  familiar  with  the  habits  and 
customs  of  the  people  with  whom  he  was  brought  into 
contact.  The  income  from  his  practice  during  these  years 
rarely,  as  he  himself  informs  us,  exceeded  twenty  thousand 
dollars  annually.  His  work,  entitled  Recollections  of  a 
Professional  Life,  issued  a  few  years  before  his  death, 
reflects  but  little  credit  upon  his  taste  or  judgment.  It  is 
a  kind  of  diary,  written  by  a  man  who  seems  anxious  to 
show  himself  off  as  a  man  of  the  world,  and  to  tell  us  the 
names,  if  nothing  more,  of  the  distinguished  people  with 
whom  chance  had  made  him  acquainted. 


336  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

His  wanderings  in  distant  lands  were  of  great  advan- 
tage to  him.  Tliey  afforded  him  thorough  relaxation 
from  the  cares  and  anxieties  of  practice,  invigorated  his 
mind  and  body,  and  enabled  him  the  better  to  perform  his 
arduous  work  during  the  coming  months.  He  always,  im- 
mediately on  reaching  home,  resumed  his  wonted  profes- 
sional labors.  ' '  The  new  methods  of  intercommunication 
since  steam  and  electricity  have  held  empire  on  the  earth 
often,"  he  says,  "enabled  me  to  make  engagements  for  the 
very  moment  of  my  return.  I  recollect  having  found  a  pa- 
tient waiting  in  my  room  when  I  came  back  from  those 
mountain  heights,  more  than  two  hundred  miles  from  the 
frontier  of  Persia,  where  ten  thousand  Greeks  uttered  their 
joyous  cr>^  on  the  sudden  sight  of  the  empire.  The  same 
thing  once  happened  to  me  on  returning  from  Egypt  and 
Syria,  when  I  found  a  carriage  waiting  my  arrival  at  Lon- 
don Bridge  to  take  me  to  a  consultation  in  Sussex  Square ; 
the  communications  in  each  case  being  made  from  points 
on  my  homeward  journey.  More  than  once,  in  returning 
from  America,  I  have  begun  a  round  of  visits  from  the 
Euston  vStation." 

The  Sunday  before  we  left  London  for  South  Devon  I 
saw  Sir  Henry  for  the  last  time,  apparently  somewhat 
feeble,  but  full  of  animation  and  cleverness.  We  were 
spending  the  evening  with  Sir  James  Paget  and  his  family, 
and  he  came  in  at  a  late  hour  to  take  leave  of  them,  prior 
to  his  departure,  a  few  days  after,  for  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope.  My  wife  had  a  long  conversation  with  him  about 
the  Princess  Caroline,  but  he  was,  perhaps  properly,  en- 
tirely non-committal.  The  voyage,  I  believe,  was  of 
some  benefit  to  him ;  but  he  never  completely  regained 
his  strength,  and  died  in  October,  1873.  He  was  twice 
married.  His  last  wife  was  a  daughter  of  Sydney  Smith,  a 
woman  of  high  culture  and  great  intellect.  A  portrait  of 
her  father  graced  the  wall  of  our  breakfast-room. 

This  evening,  June  25th,  at  seven  o'clock,  Dr.  Thomas 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  337 

Bevill  Peacock  gave  me  a  dinner.  As  he  is  a  widower,  no 
ladies  were  present.  Among  the  guests  were  Dr.  Barker, 
Mr.  Gay,  Mr.  Croft,  Liebreich,  Weber,  MacCormac,  Hutch- 
inson, and  my  son.  The  repast  was  select  and  enjoy- 
able. Dr.  Peacock,  an  excellent  gentleman  and  physi- 
cian, had  dined  with  me,  but  quite  informally,  a  few 
summers  before  in  Philadelphia,  and  I  therefore  appre- 
ciated this  compliment  all  the  more.  As  an  author  he 
is  well  known ;  his  works  and  monographs  on  malforma- 
tions and  morbid  conditions  of  the  heart  have  given  him  a 
world-wide  reputation.  In  the  London  Hospital  for  Con- 
sumptives, Victoria  Park,  of  which  he  is  one  of  the  physi- 
cians, there  is  a  large  and  valuable  collection — the  result 
mainly  of  his  own  labors — of  specimens  illustrative  of 
these  disorders.  Our  appreciation  of  Dr.  Peacock  on  this 
side  of  the  Atlantic  will  be  better  understood  when  I  state 
that  he  was  recently  elected  a  member  of  the  College  of 
Physicians  of  Philadelphia. 

On  June  26th  my  wife,  my  son,  and  I  lunched  with 
Mr.  and  I\Irs.  Erichsen,  after  which  I  accompanied  Mr. 
Erichsen  to  University  College  Hospital  to  see  him  excise 
the  wrist-joint  of  a  young  girl  according  to  Mr.  Lister's 
method,  a  complicated  and  tedious  procedure.  He  was 
followed  by  Mr.  Berkley  Hill  with  a  resection  of  a  knee- 
joint.     The  hospital  is  kept  in  excellent  condition. 

At  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  I  went  to  the  Royal  Col- 
lege of  Physicians  to  listen  to  the  Harveian  oration,  deliv- 
ered by  Dr.  Arthur  Farre.  Dr.  George  Burrows,  the  presi- 
dent, in  his  robes,  was  in  the  chair.  The  oration,  which 
was  excellent,  well  worded,  and  well  delivered,  gave  an 
account  of  Harvey's  works  and  of  his  views  on  genera- 
tion. The  audience  was  not  large  but  attentive,  and  the 
address  elicited  frequent  applause.  It  is  one  of  the  require- 
ments of  the  college  that  such  an  oration  be  delivered 
every  three  years,  and  a  prominent  Fellow  is  always  se- 
lected for  that  purpose.  After  the  exercises  were  con- 
1—43 


338  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

eluded,   Dr.    Burrows   showed   me   Harvey's  preparations 
illustrative  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood. 

In  the  evening  I  was  present  at  the  anniversar}^  dinner 
given  by  Dr.  George  Burrows,  as  President  of  the  Royal 
College  of  Physicians,  at  his  residence,  No.  8  Cavendish 
Square,  to  some  of  the  more  prominent  Fellows.  It  was 
in  every  sense  a  handsome  and  enjoyable  entertainment. 
Invitations  to  about  thirty  Fellows,  including  the  heads 
of  the  army  and  navy,  had  been  sent  out  a  fortnight 
previously.  Among  the  guests  upon  whom  all  eyes  were 
centred  was  one  who  has  achieved  a  vast  reputation  as 
a  scientist — Richard  Owen,  the  naturalist,  a  tall,  noble 
figure,  in  whose  presence  most  men,  whatever  their  profes- 
sional stature  may  be,  feel  insignificant,  and  yet  who  is  so 
gentle  and  so  modest  that  any  one  unacquainted  with  him 
would  take  him  for  an  ordinary'  man.  Sir  Thomas  Watson 
had  been  expected  to  be  at  the  dinner,  but  a  day  or  so  be- 
fore it  took  place  he  lost  his  brother,  and  I  was  thus  deprived 
of  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him.  Dr.  Burrows  is  one  of 
the  three  gentlemen  with  whom  I  received  the  degree  of 
D.  C.  L.  at  Oxford  a  few  weeks  before  he  gave  this  dinner, 
and  the  Queen,  one  of  whose  physicians  he  is,  conferred 
upon  him  several  years  afterwards  the  honor  of  knight- 
hood with  a  baronetcy.  Sir  George  occupies  a  high  posi- 
tion as  a  practitioner,  writer,  and  scholar. 

On  June  29th  my  son  and  I  breakfasted  at  ten  o'clock 
with  Mr.  Mowbray,  Member  of  Parliament  for  Oxford,  at 
Onslow  Gardens,  a  pretty  suburban  residence  at  least  three 
miles  from  our  lodgings,  a  long  and  disagreeable  drive. 
We  found  the  family  very  agreeable,  chatty,  and  cordial. 
Mr.  Mowbray  was  most  kind  to  us  in  showing  us  through 
the  two  Houses  of  Parliament,  and  pointing  out  to  us 
the  more  prominent  members.  He  presented  us  to  Sir 
Roundell  Palmer,  afterwards  distinguished  as  Baron  Sel- 
borne,  who  had  just  returned  from  the  Geneva  Arbitration, 
and  with  whom  we  had  a  pleasant  conversation. 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  339 

At  two  in  the  afternoon  I  drove  to  King's  College  Hos- 
pital, where  I  saw  Henr\'  Smith,  my  old  friend,  resect  the 
elbow-joint  of  a  young  man  on  account  of  gelatinoid  de- 
generation ;  and  afterwards  Sir  William  Fergusson  per- 
form staphylorraphy,  an  operation  in  which  he  has  earned 
reputation  as  the  great  English  pioneer.  The  patient,  a 
young  man,  only  partially  under  the  influence  of  chloro- 
form, struggled  very  much,  and  bled  profusely.  The  op- 
eration involved  the  hard  palate  ;  Thomas  Smith's  gag 
was  used. 

In  the  evening,  at  a  quarter  to  eight,  I  dined  with  Sir 
James  Paget.  The  company  consisted  of  sixteen  persons, 
Dr.  Tilbury  Fox  being  the  only  medical  man  present.  I 
talked  a  great  deal  about  America  with  Lord  Blatchford, 
a  very  intelligent  gentleman.  The  entertainment  was 
agreeable.  The  learned  host  and  hostess  were  especially 
courteous. 

At  ten  o'clock  I  went  with  Sir  James  to  a  conversazio7te 
at  the  hall  of  the  College  of  Physicians.  The  attendance 
was  large,  and  there  were  present  many  eminent  medical 
men  of  London.  I  was  introduced  to  Carpenter,  Gull, 
Bowman,  Balfour,  Martin,  and  others.  An  ingenious  elec- 
tric bullet  forceps,  the  invention  of  Dr.  John  Taylor,  was 
exhibited,  and  attracted  much  attention.  Tea,  coffee,  cake 
and  ices  were  served.  The  hall  was  hung  with  portraits 
of  Harvey,  Jenner,  Hewson,  and  many  other  great  men, 
whose  name  and  fame  are  indissolubly  associated  with  the 
progress  of  medicine  in  England. 

Mr.  John  Gay  was,  as  usual,  most  hospitable.  He 
kindly  insisted  upon  my  dining  with  him  and  his  chann- 
ing  wife  at  their  beautiful  villa  at  Hampstead,  six  miles 
from  London.  My  son  and  I  accordingly  went  out  on 
Sunday,  June  30th,  Mrs.  Gross  being  too  indisposed  to 
accompany  us. 

On  July  2d  I  went  with  Mr.  Joseph  T.  Clover,  the 
London  chloroformist,  to  witness  an  ovariotomy  by  Mr. 


340  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

Graily  Hewitt.  The  operation  was  dexterously  performed, 
without  parade,  and  with  as  few  words  as  could  well  be 
imagined.  If  I  were  to  say,  "without  unnecessary 
words, ' '  my  meaning  would  be  more  accurately  conveyed. 
Mr.  Clover  informed  me  that  he  had  now  administered 
chloroform  with  his  peculiar  apparatus  between  eight 
and  nine  thousand  times  without  a  solitary  accident. 
His  ordinary  fee  for  this  service,  I  am  told,  is  two 
guineas.  Mr.  Hewitt's  reticence  reminds  me  of  what  I 
have  often  noticed — that  there  are  generally  not  enough 
quiet  and  composure  on  the  part  of  our  surgeons  and  their 
assistants  during  operations,  especially  those  demanding 
great  skill  and  self-possession.  There  should  be  no  con- 
versation, no  unnecessary  movements,  no  appearance  of 
haste  or  of  indecision ;  all  the  necessary  arrangements 
should  be  made  beforehand ;  the  assistants  should  be 
thoroughly  instructed  in  their  duties,  and  every  means 
adopted  to  anticipate  and  meet  emergencies.  A  display 
of  instruments  is  always  out  of  place,  and  cannot  be  too 
pointedly  condemned.  Nothing  savors  so  much  of  char- 
latanism. 

During  our  sojourn  in  London  we  met  with  unceasing 
attention  from  our  old  friends.  On  the  4th  of  July 
I  dined  with  the  Fellows  of  the  Royal  College  of  Sur- 
geons at  their  anniversary  dinner,  and  had  a  pleasant 
time.  Sir  William  Fergusson  presided,  and  the  meeting 
did  not  break  up  until  near  midnight.  I  was  of  course 
called  upon  to  make  a  speech.  Fergusson  spoke  with  grace 
and  dignity,  and  in  every  respect  acquitted  himself  well. 
More  than  two  hundred  Fellows  were  present. 

We  also  dined  with  Mrs.  Douglas  Douglas,  of  Orsett 
Terrace,  a  cousin  of  my  wife ;  with  Mr.  John  Croft, 
the  eminent  surgeon  and  genial  gentleman,  whose  wife 
is  also  a  cousin ;  and  with  several  other  persons  of  dis- 
tinction. Mr.,  now  Sir  Joseph,  Fayrer  breakfasted  with 
me  at  my  lodgings  early  in  July.      He  had  recently   re- 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,  M.  D.  341 

turned  from  Calcutta  after  an  absence  of  twenty  years, 
and  he  told  me  many  things  of  interest  respecting  India, 
among  others  that  fully  twenty  thousand  people  are  annu- 
ally destroyed  in  that  country  by  poisonous  snakes,  and 
that  many  besides  are  killed  by  lions,  tigers,  and  ele- 
phants. This  statement  might  seem  incredible  were  it 
not  vouched  for  by  authentic  statistics.  Mr.  Fayrer  is 
now  engaged  upon  the  composition  of  an  elaborate  work 
upon  the  snakes  of  India,  of  which  he  has  kindly  promised 
to  send  me  a  copy.  He  was  Professor  of  Surgery  in  the 
Medical  College  of  Calcutta,  and  is  the  author  of  a  valu- 
able work  on  surgery,  besides  numerous  contributions  to 
our  periodical  literature. 

During  this  visit  I  attended,  through  an  invitation  kindly 
extended  to  me  by  ]\Ir,  John  Croft  of  the  surgical  staff  of 
vSt.  Thomas's  Hospital,  the  distribution  of  the  competitive 
prizes  in  that  ancient  and  celebrated  institution  in  the 
chapel  of  the  new  and  magnificent  edifice  on  the  west 
bank  of  the  Thames,  almost  immediately  opposite  the 
Parliament  Houses.  A  large  assembly  was  in  attendance, 
including  many  gentlemen  and  ladies  of  distinction.  The 
meeting  was  presided  over  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bur>',  who  opened  it  with  prayer.  As  the  name  of  each 
successful  candidate  was  announced  he  was  presented  to 
his  grace  by  one  of  the  hospital  staff  in  a  neat  little  ad- 
dress setting  forth  his  merits  and  offering  kind  words  of 
encouragement.  These  exercises  were  followed  by  an 
address  by  the  Archbishop,  of  about  half  an  hour's  dura- 
tion, in  which  he  spoke  in  the  most  kind  and  feeling 
manner  of  the  medical  profession,  of  its  divine  character, 
and  of  the  vast  benefits  which  it  is  daily  and  hourly  con- 
ferring upon  the  human  race.  Next  to  his  own  profession, 
he  said  the  medical  occupied  the  loftiest  position  in  its 
power  of  doing  good,  and  in  the  exalted  character  of  its 
members.  He  dwelt  with  peculiar  emphasis  upon  the 
hardships  of  the  medical  life,  and  of  the  unrequited  ser- 


343  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

vices  of  medical  men,  adding  that  they  must  not  always 
expect  their  reward  in  this  world  but  have  higher  aims 
and  aspirations.  Towards  the  close  of  the  address,  which 
was  listened  to  with  great  attention,  and  which  was  deliv- 
ered in  a  very  plain,  gentle,  and  parental  manner,  his 
grace  extended  a  cordial  invitation  to  the  students  who 
attend  the  summer  classes  to  visit  the  grounds  of  Lambeth 
Palace,  within  a  few  squares  of  St.  Thomas's,  for  exercise 
and  recreation — a  kindness  worthy  of  the  greatest  praise 
and  of  the  pure  and  benevolent  character  of  the  head  of  the 
Anglican  Church. 

St.  Thomas's  Hospital,  one  of  the  largest  institutions 
of  the  kind  in  the  world,  is  worthy  of  passing  notice.  It 
was  originally  an  almshouse,  situated  opposite  Guy's  Hos- 
pital and  founded  in  the  early  part  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury. Its  site  is  one  of  the  most  desirable  in  London. 
The  new  building,  the  erection  of  which  occupied  more 
than  seven  years,  cost  three  millions  of  dollars,  and  is 
provided  with  every  convenience  and  comfort  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  patients  and  for  efficient  clinical  teaching. 
A  most  agreeable  feature  of  the  very  commodious  and 
thoroughly  ventilated  wards  is  the  display  of  engravings 
upon  the  walls,  illustrative  of  scenes  in  the  Bible  and  in 
general  history,  well  calculated  to  interest  and  gratify  the 
inmates  and  to  divert  their  attention  from  their  suffer- 
iupfs.  The  little  stands  were  covered  with  flowers.  The 
medical  school  connected  with  this  Hospital  has  educated 
many  of  the  most  distinguished  men  in  the  kingdom ;  and 
the  hospital  staffs,  who  perform  the  teaching,  have  always 
been  very  able.  In  the  days  of  the  Clines  and  Sir  Astley 
Cooper  the  schools  of  St  Thomas  and  of  Guy  were  united, 
and  the  great  works  of  the  latter  on  Hernia,  the  Testes, 
and  the  Mammary  Gland,  all  immortal  productions,  were 
based  upon  observations  made  by  him  in  the  two  institu- 
tions. In  1868,  during  my  first  visit  to  London,  the  sur- 
gical staff  consisted  of  Solly,  Le  Gros  Clark,  and  Simon ; 


SAMUEL   D.   GROSS,  M.  D.  343 

the  medical,  of  J.  R.  Bennett,  Peacock,  and  Bristowe  ; 
and  the  obstetrical,  of  Barnes — names  widely  known  in 
this  and  other  countries.  In  1872  I  found  that  Sydney 
Jones  and  my  friends  John  Croft  and  Mr.  MacCormac, 
formerly  of  Belfast,  all  excellent  operators,  had  been 
added  to  the  surgical  staff,  the  first  two  after  having  for 
a  number  of  years  acted  as  assistants.  Some  changes, 
owing  to  death  and  resignations,  had  also  taken  place  in 
the  medical  staff.  The  teaching  in  the  medical  school  is 
conducted  on  a  large  scale,  and  there  are  two  sessions,  in 
each  of  which  clinical  instruction  occupies  an  important 
place. 

When  the  services  were  ended  I  was  invited  into  an 
adjoining  room,  where  I  was  presented  to  the  Archbishop 
and  Mrs.  and  Miss  Tait,  three  tall  persons,  his  grace  being 
more  than  six  feet  in  height,  and,  withal,  ver>'  slender, 
not  in  the  least  denotive  of  the  good  living  which  so  gen- 
erally falls  to  the  lot  of  even  the  ordinary  clergy,  to  say 
nothing  of  those  in  high  life,  who  always  live  upon  the 
fat  of  the  land.  He  is  evidently  very  amiable,  conscien- 
tious, and  pious,  but  hardly  any  one  would  suppose  him  to 
be  a  great  man.  His  liberal  principles  have  greatly  en- 
deared him  to  the  English  people.  As  primate  of  all  Eng- 
land and  the  first  peer  of  the  realm  he  necessarily  exerts 
much  influence  in  the  House  of  Lords  as  well  as  in  the 
Church.  The  interest  which  he  showed  in  1877  in  the 
passage  of  what  is  called  the  Burial  Bill,  by  which  dis- 
senters shall  be  permitted  the  privilege  of  burial  in  parish 
grounds,  was  a  move,  as  it  would  be  considered  in  this 
country,  in  the  right  direction,  and  gives  him  a  warm 
claim  to  the  gratitude  of  a  large  and  deserving  class  of 
people.  It  is  amazing  that  in  an  age  so  enlightened  as 
this  is  such  prejudices  should  have  been  tolerated  so  long. 
Every  citizen  of  England  is  taxed  for  the  support  of  the 
Church,  and  it  would  therefore  seem  to  be  only  right  that 
every  man  should  have  an  interest  in  its  burial  grounds. 


344  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

and  not  be  treated  like  a  dog  when  he  knocks  for  admis- 
sion to  rights  to  which  he  is  plainly  entitled.  The  passage 
of  the  bill  in  the  House  of  Lords  was  evidently  due  to  the 
great  personal  and  official  influence  of  the  Archbishop. 

There  was  a  singular  story  in  circulation  during  my 
visit  to  England  in  regard  to  the  manner  in  which  Dr. 
Tait  obtained  his  appointment.  The  Queen,  it  seems,  was 
much  attached  to  him,  and  having  learned  that  he  had 
been  plunged  into  the  very  depths  of  affliction  by  the  loss 
of  several  of  his  children  in  rapid  succession,  she  concluded 
that  she  could  show  her  sympathy  in  no  better  way  than 
by  elevating  him  to  the  Archbishopric  of  Canterbury. 

My  wife  having  promised  a  visit  to  her  cousin.  Lady 
Douglas,  of  Dawlish,  South  Devon,  we  left  London  on  the 
9th  of  July  and  reached  our  destination  at  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon.  We  had  a  cordial  welcome.  Everything 
was  in  readiness  for  us  at  her  pretty  residence,  known  as 
Bursledon  House,  and  no  effort  was  spared  to  contribute 
to  our  happiness  during  the  week  in  which  we  were  her 
guests.  Excursions  were  made  throughout  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  among  other  places  of  interest  we  visited  Exeter 
Cathedral,  a  grand  old  structure,  of  which  Lady  Douglas 
long  ago  made  so  thorough  a  study  that  she  is  perfectly 
familiar  with  the  minutest  details  of  its  history  ;  she 
proved  a  most  instructive  guide  to  us.  Almost  every  day 
some  persons  were  invited  to  join  us  at  meals ;  and  on  the 
third  day  after  our  arrival  an  elegant  luncheon  was  given 
us  by  the  Vicar  of  Br>'anstone,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Clark,  an 
intimate  friend  of  our  hostess  ;  followed  at  half  past  seven 
by  a  dinner  party  at  Bursledon  House. 

Of  Lady  Douglas,  with  whom  I  have  long  carried  on  a 
correspondence,  my  wife  entered  the  following  note  in  her 
memorandum-book  :  ' '  She  is  different  from  any  one  I  have 
ever  known,  with  great  ability,  learning,  and  wonderful 
powers  of  conversation.  She  has  given  up  the  world  and 
society,  and  seems  to  maintain  over  herself  a  rigid  disci- 


SAMUEL  n.    GROSS,  M.  D.  345 

pline  and  watchfulness.  She  is  devoted  to  the  church. 
Exeter  Cathedral  is  her  especial  delight ;  and  she  has  ren- 
dered important  service  in  deciphering  and  explaining  the 
old  inscriptions  and  bosses  on  the  arches.  She  has  given 
money  towards  the  restoration  of  the  building,  and  some 
years  ago  she  contributed  a  beautiful  chalice-veil  to  St. 
Paul's  in  London  at  the  convocation  there.  She  is  very 
religious,  and  I  cannot  but  respect  the  self-denial  to  which 
she  subjects  herself."  I  might  say  much  more  of  this 
noble-hearted  woman ;  I  might  speak  of  her  remarkable 
learning,  of  her  inquisitive  mind,  of  her  great  refinement, 
of  her  artistic  tastes,  of  her  unaffected  piety  ;  but  if  I  were 
to  do  this,  I  should,  I  am  sure,  incur  her  displeasure. 

Our  next  visit  was  to  Nutwell  Court,  where,  as  at 
Dawlish,  we  spent  one  week  as  the  guests  of  Sir  Francis 
and  Lady  Drake.  Nutwell  Court  is  one  of  the  places 
of  mark  in  English  histor>\  It  is  a  beautiful  spot,  with 
large  grounds  and  a  noble  old  hall,  a  present  of  the 
English  government  to  Sir  Francis  Drake,  the  great  sailor 
who  saved  England  by  destroying  the  Spanish  Armada 
in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  The  house  abounds 
in  relics.  The  library  contains  a  fine  collection  of  the 
works  of  English  and  foreign  authors,  mostly  in  quarto 
and  folio  editions  of  the  sixteenth  centur}'.  Among  other 
bocks  is  Sir  Francis  Drake's  Bible  in  black  letter  and  a 
copy  of  the  Bishop's  Bible,  with  the  inscription  on  the  fly- 
leaf, "All  around  ye  world."  His  sword,  belt,  and  cha- 
peau,  and  the  trumpet  used  by  him  at  sea  are  preserv^ed 
with  scrupulous  care.  Among  many  curiosities  are  the 
bedstead,  a  beautiful  piece  of  carved  and  inlaid  work, 
which  belonged  to  the  admiral  of  the  Spanish  Armada, 
and  a  full-length  portrait  of  "Queen  Bess,"  a  present  from 
her  Majesty  to  Sir  Francis  in  token  of  her  admiration  of 
his  character  and  as  an  acknowledgment  of  his  great  ser- 
vices as  a  navigator  and  warrior.  There  are  also,  in  good 
condition,  the  green  silk  scarfs  fringed  with  gold  given 
1—44 


346  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

him  by  the  Queen,  and  six  red  silk  flags  which  used  to 
float  on  his  vessel  as  it  was  proudly  plowing  the  waves  in 
pursuit  either  of  discover}^  or  of  victory.  The  walls  of  the 
house  are  hung  ever}'where  with  portraits  of  distinguished 
personages,  some  of  them  by  the  older  artists,  and  nearly 
all  procured  at  great  cost.  Much  of  the  furniture  is  old, 
and  the  plate,  which  is  of  silver  and  gold,  is  very  valuable. 
There  is  also  some  Sevres  ware  of  rare  pattern.  The 
grounds  of  this  palatial  residence  are  very  extensive  and 
are  kept  in  excellent  order.  The  gardens  and  conservato- 
ries are  large ;  and  the  orange,  lemon,  banana,  and  pine- 
apple are  grown  in  more  or  less  profusion.  The  stables 
are  supplied  with  fine  horses  and  carriages,  and  attached 
to  them  is  a  riding-school  for  training  purposes  and  for  ex- 
ercise in  inclement  weather.  The  country  around  affords 
beautiful  drives.  After  a  certain  hour  in  the  morning 
horses  and  carriages  are  constantly  at  the  door  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  visitors.  Nutwell  is  situated  on  the  river 
Exe,  and  almost  directly  opposite  the  park  and  residence 
of  the  Earl  of  Devon.  It  is,  like  some  of  the  other  posses- 
sions left  by  the  old  navigator,  an  entailed  estate. 

Having  passed  most  pleasantly  the  week  for  which  we 
had  been  invited,  and  during  which  we  received  not  only 
the  unbounded  hospitality  of  Sir  Francis  and  Lady  Drake, 
but  many  marks  of  attention  from,  prominent  citizens  of 
the  neighborhood,  we  reluctantly  took  our  departure  for 
Torquay.  We  stopped  on  the  way  at  Exeter  to  lunch 
with  Canon  Cook  and  his  charming  and  accomplished 
wife,  both  of  whom  we  had  met  at  Nutwell  Court,  and 
who  had  kindly  invited  a  number  of  their  friends  to  meet 
us.  IVIrs.  Cook  is  a  cousin  of  Lady  Drake,  and  a  Douglas. 
Canon  Cooke  is  one  of  the  Queen's  chaplains,  noted  for  his 
piety  and  learning,  and  is  one  of  the  divines  selected  for 
revising  the  Bible. 

We  visited  Torquay  solely  on  account  of  Mrs.  Gross's 
health,  impaired  by  long  suffering  from  severe  neuralgia. 


SAMUEL  D.    GJ^OSS,   M.D.  347 

We  remained  there  nearly  one  month,  during  which  she 
greatly  improved  in  flesh  and  strength,  and  enjoyed  her 
sea  baths  and  excursions  in  the  neighborhood.  The  walks 
and  drives  in  and  around  this  town,  perched  as  it  is  upon 
high  hills,  on  almost  every  side  in  view  of  the  ocean,  are 
enchanting  ;  and  we  availed  ourselves  of  every  opportu- 
nity to  make  the  best  of  our  time.  We  found  here,  as 
ever}'where  else,  agreeable  and  hospitable  people.  Dr. 
and  ^Irs.  Blake  were  especially  kind  to  us ;  and  Mr. 
Vivian  spared  no  pains  to  point  out  to  us  every  object  of 
interest  in  regard  to  the  history-  of  the  town.  Mr.  Vivian 
is  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Torquay  Museum,  containing 
a  valuable  collection  of  organic  remains  found  in  and 
about  the  town,  especially  in  what  is  known  as  Kent's 
Hole — a  natural  cave  in  which  have  been  found  the  bones 
of  hyenas,  tigers,  bears,  elephants,  and  other  animals  no 
longer  seen  in  Great  Britain.  Intermixed  with  these  re- 
mains have  been  discovered  some  fragments  of  human 
bones.  The  passage  has  been  explored  to  a  distance  of 
six  hundred  yards ;  and  everything  goes  to  prove  that 
human  beings  must  have  dwelt  in  its  vicinity  at  least  two 
hundred  thousand  years  ago. 

The  bathing  at  Torquay  is  not  good  ;  the  water  is  shal- 
low, without  surf,  and  cold  even  in  August.  The  women 
and  men  bathe  separately,  the  former  in  the  morning,  and 
the  latter  in  the  afternoon — in  machines,  as  they  are  called, 
or  two-wheeled  carriages.  After  they  are  undressed,  the 
bathers  are  pushed  into  the  water,  and  hauled  out  when 
they  have  completed  their  toilet.  The  best  season  for 
visiting  Torquay  is  the  autumn  ;  at  that  time  many  invalids 
resort  thither,  and  not  a  few  pass  the  winter  there.  The 
air  is  delicious,  the  market  excellent,  and  the  charges 
reasonable.  Flowers,  including  the  fuchsia,  the  geranium, 
and  the  heliotrope,  bloom  in  the  open  air  until  late  in 
the  season. 

During  my  stay  at  Torquay  I  had  an  invitation  from  the 


348  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

Lord  Mayor  of  London  to  attend  his  annual  dinner ;  and 
also  one  from  the  Mayor  of  Brighton  to  dine  with  the  Brit- 
ish Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Science,  at  the 
Pavilion,  in  that  city,  the  former  residence  of  George  IV. 
Owing  to  unavoidable  circumstances  I  was  obliged  to  de- 
cline both  of  them.  I  was,  however,  able  to  go  to  Bir- 
mingham to  attend  the  meeting  of  the  British  Medical  As- 
sociation, which  met  in  that  city  Tuesday,  August  6th.  I 
went  there  as  the  guest  of  Mr.  Thomas  H.  Bartlett,  one  of 
the  surgeons  of  the  Birmingham  Hospital,  an  eminent 
practitioner,  and  a  gentleman  of  agreeable  manners.  The 
Association  met  the  next  morning,  and  was  largely  at- 
tended, the  president,  Mr.  Alfred  Baker,  in  the  chair.  His 
soirke^  which  cost  him,  it  was  said,  more  than  six  hundred 
pounds,  was  a  great  success.  More  than  twelve  hundred 
persons  were  present,  and  all  enjoyed  themselves.  At  the 
annual  dinner  nearly  four  hundred  subscribers  sat  down. 
As  the  senior  American  delegate,  it  devolved  upon  me  to 
tender  thanks  in  behalf  of  my  countrymen.  This  I  did 
in  a  brief  speech,  which  was  kindly  received  with  three 
rousing  cheers.  The  address  in  medicine,  by  Dr.  Wilks, 
of  Guy's  Hospital,  London,  and  that  in  surgery,  by  Mr. 
Oliver  Pemberton,  of  Birmingham,  were  able  productions, 
eliciting  much  commendation.  During  my  stay  in  this 
busy  and  hospitable  city  I  dined  with  Mr.  Baker,  the 
President  of  the  Association  ;  with  Mr.  Berry,  father-in- 
law  of  my  host ;  and  with  Mr.  Pemberton.  Mr.  Fernwick 
Jordan,  Professor  of  Surgery  in  Queen's  College,  invited 
me  to  breakfast  with  him  at  the  Queen's  Hotel,  with  a 
company  of  sixty  gentlemen,  many  of  them  of  profes- 
sional prominence.  He  was  kind  enough  to  assign  to  me 
the  seat  of  honor  at  the  table.  The  morning  after  this 
I  met  at  breakfast,  at  the  same  hotel,  the  Temperance 
League,  nearly  one  hundred  members  and  invited  guests 
being  present.  The  object  of  the  meeting  was  to  elicit  the 
views  of  the  medical  gentlemen  in  regard  to  the  necessity 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  349 

or  uselessness  of  alcohol  in  the  treatment  of  disease  and 
injury.  There  was  much  diversity  of  sentiment  expressed 
upon  the  subject.  Some  denounced  its  use  in  toto ;  while 
others,  including  myself,  strongly  advocated  it,  in  certain 
conditions  of  the  system,  as  a  most  valuable,  if  not  indis- 
pensable, remedial  agent.  I  must  not  forget  to  state  that 
soon  after  the  opening  of  the  meeting  of  the  British  Asso- 
ciation I  was  elected  an  honorary  member,  and  that  a 
similar  compliment  was  bestowed  upon  Ricord  and  Demar- 
quay,  of  Paris.- 

I  had  long  been  anxious  to  visit  Lichfield,  the  birth- 
place of  Samuel  Johnson,  the  Goliath  of  English  litera- 
ture, and  finding  that  it  was  only  eighteen  miles  from 
Birmingham,  I  determined  to  gratify  my  wishes.  I  was 
particularly  desirous  to  see  his  statue  illustrative  of  events 
of  his  early  childhood.  In  my  journey  I  was  accompa- 
nied by  Mr.  Wilcox,  a  friend  of  my  host,  who  contributed 
greatly  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  occasion. 

Although  a  man  of  masculine  mind,  Johnson  was  natu- 
rally superstitious,  and  this  feeling  never  forsook  him  even 
in  his  riper  years.  His  statue  at  Lichfield  stands  in  the 
little  market  square,  and  was  erected  by  the  Rev.  Chan- 
cellor Law  at  his  own  expense,  at  a  sum  of  four  hundred 
pounds.  The  figure  represents  a  young  man  in  the  sitting 
posture,  the  head  resting  on  one  hand,  with  a  book  in  the 
other,  in  a  studious,  contemplative  mood.  The  counte- 
nance is  singularly  sensuous,  animal-like,  the  lips  being 
thick  and  roimd,  the  nose  broad,  and  the  chin  rather  long ; 
indeed,  there  is  an  entire  absence  of  refinement  about 
it.  There  are  three  basso-relievos.  The  first  represents 
Johnson  as  a  boy  riding  upon  the  shoulders  of  two  of  his 
companions  with  another  behind  pushing  all  three  onward  ; 
the  manner  in  which,  it  is  said,  he  used  to  be  carried  to 
school.  The  second  represents  him  as  an  infant  astride  his 
father's  shoulders,  listening  to  one  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Sache- 
verell's  sermons.     The  third,  as  a  boy,  shows  him  doing 


350 


AUTOBIOGRAIHY  OF 


penance  in  the  marketplace  for  having  told  a  story,  his 
mother  standing  behind,  and  the  magistrate  in  front  of 
him.  As  a  piece  of  art,  the  statne  has  nothing  to  boast 
of;  it  is  an  awkward,  clumsy  performance.  Those  who 
are  familiar  with  his  early  life  will  recollect  that  Johnson, 
when  hardly  two  years  old,  was  carried  by  his  parents 
to  lyondon  to  be  touched  by  Queen  Anne  for  the  king's 
evil — a  scrofulous  disease ;  and  that,  young  as  he  was,  he 
distinctly  recollected  her  majesty's  pearl  necklace,  show- 
ing what  a  wonderful  memory  he  had  even  then. 

Not  far  from  this  famous  marketplace,  in  a  print  shop,  is 
Johnson's  arm-chair,  an  awkward,  unseemly  piece  of  furni- 
ture, and  also  his  cane,  a  very  long  one,  made  of  bamboo 
wood,  surmounted  by  an  ivory  head,  quite  loose  from  long 
use.  At  the  town  museum  I  saw  his  beer-mug,  salt-cellar, 
snuff-box,  and  silver  shoe-buckles — precious  relics,  pre- 
served with  religious  care.  Portraits  of  Johnson,  Garrick, 
and  Darwin,  the  author  of  Zoonomia,  and  grandfather  of 
the  evolutionist,  adorn  the  interior  of  the  building.  Before 
I  left  I  bought  two  photographs,  one  representing  Johnson's 
statue,  and  the  other  a  portrait  of  him  by  Reynolds. 

Lichfield  is  situated  upon  a  dead  level,  with  a  population 
of  seven  thousand  ;  it  has  a  magnificent  cathedral,  and  had 
at  one  time  a  famous  grammar-school,  in  which  Johnson, 
Addison,  and  Garrick  laid  the  foundation  of  their  great- 
ness. Mr.  Wilcox  and  I  greatly  enjoyed  our  visit.  We 
returned  early  in  the  afternoon ;  and  on  the  following 
morning,  with  a  heart  full  of  gratitude  to  my  host  and 
hostess  for  their  kind  attentions  to  me,  I  retraced  my 
steps  towards  Torquay,  mindful  that  I  should  never  be 
able  to  repay  the  good  people  of  Birmingham  for  their  hos- 
pitality. This  word  hospitality  naturally  recalls  the  viands 
and  markets  of  the  people  from  whom  we  were  at  all 
times  the  recipients  of  unbounded  kindness,  and  it  may 
therefore  not  be  inappropriate  for  me  here  to  state  that 
the    shooting    season    of  game    in    England    begins,    for 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  351 

grouse,  August  12th  ;  for  black  cock,  August  22d  ;  for 
partridge,  September  2d  ;  for  pheasant,  October  2d  ;  and 
for  hare,  October  30th.  Venison  is  freely  eaten  as  early 
as  August.  The  London  fish-market  is  ver>^  superior ;  the 
salmon  is  a  standard  dish  in  its  season,  and  white  bait  is  a 
bonne  boiiche  not  to  be  despised.  The  beef,  mutton,  ham, 
and  poultn'  are  excellent ;  but,  excepting  mutton,  not  any 
better  than  our  own,  while  our  lamb  is  not  surpassed  in 
tenderness  and  flavor.  Much  cold  meat  is  eaten,  especially 
at  breakfast  and  luncheon.  Vegetables  are  not  nearly  so 
numerous  as  with  us.  When  I  told  an  English  lady,  at  a 
dinner  party  in  London,  that  in  the  garden  of  one  of  my 
sons-in-law  near  Baltimore  there  were  at  that  moment 
twenty-six  culinar\^  vegetables  growing  side  by  side,  she 
threw  down  her  fork,  raised  her  eyes  like  a  duck  in  a 
thunder-storm,  and  almost  audibly  said,  ' '  That  is  not  true  !' ' 
English  eating  is  not  bad,  but  America  is  the  paradise  of 
good  living,  although  the  cooking  of  the  lower  and  even 
of  the  middle  classes  is  often  wretchedly  bad.  Our  mar- 
kets are  supplied  with  an  abundance  of  delicious  veni- 
son, quail,  pheasant,  grouse,  snipe,  plover,  woodcock,  rail, 
reed-bird,  and  duck,  including  the  canvas-back  and  red- 
head— neither  of  which,  nor  the  terrapin,  our  English 
brothers  ever  get,  except  as  presents  from  their  friends 
on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic. 

On  the  20th  of  August  we  took  leave  of  our  friends  at 
Torquay,  and  three  days  thereafter  embarked  in  Liver- 
pool on  the  Russia  for  home,  all  the  better,  and  not  a  little 
the  wiser,  for  our  three  months'  residence  among  people 
from  whom  we  had  received  great  kindness,  and  whom, 
in  turn,  we  had  learned  to  love  and  honor. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

JOHN    TYNDALI. — CHARLES    MACAI.ESTER — GEORGE    PEAEODY — ^THE  MEETING  OF 

THE   AMERICAN    PUBLIC    HEALTH    ASSOCIATION PAPER    ON    THE    FACTORS    OF 

DISEASE  AND    DEATH   AFTER    INJURIES,   PARTURITION,   AND    SURGICAL   OPERA- 
TIONS  RESOLUTIONS     FOR   THE   ESTABLISHMENT   OF   A   NATIONAL    BUREAU   OF 

HEALTH — JOHN    ERIC    ERICHSEN THE    DEATH    OF    MY   WIFE — THE    MEETING 

OF  THE  INTERNATIONAL   MEDICAL  CONGRESS — SIR  WILLIAM   FERGUSSON,  BART. 
— king's   COLLEGE  HOSPITAL. 

On  March  4th,  1873,  I  went  to  New  York  to  attend 
the  public  banquet  given  by  citizens  at  Dehnonico's  to 
Professor  John  Tyndall,  the  scientist,  who  has  been  en- 
gaged during  the  last  few  months  in  delivering  a  series 
of  lectures  in  the  principal  cities  of  the  Union.  The 
number  of  guests  was  upwards  of  two  hundred,  embracing 
many  of  the  most  distinguished  members  of  the  various 
professions  and  prominent  citizens  of  all  classes  from  dif- 
ferent sections  of  the  country.  The  occasion  was  designed 
to  be  a  grand  one,  and  the  result  did  not  disappoint  ex- 
pectation. Mr.  William  M.  Evarts  occupied  the  chair, 
supported  by  Dr.  John  W.  Draper,  Rev.  Henry  Ward 
Beecher,  Parke  Godwin,  Frederick  A.  P.  Barnard,  of  Co- 
lumbia College,  Dr.  Andrew  D.  White,  of  Cornell  Univer- 
sity, and  the  Rev.  Dr.  H.  W.  Bellows.  Speeches  were 
made  by  all  these  gentlemen  except  the  last ;  the  best  and 
most  felicitous  of  all  was  by  Draper,  who  had  for  his  sub- 
^  ject  the  toast,  "  English  and  American  Science."  Evarts 
made  a  few  happy  remarks ;  and  the  speeches  of  Tyndall, 
Beecher,  and  White  were  good,  but  not  brilliant.  Godwin 
and  Barnard  were  tedious,  and  every  one  was  glad  when 
they  took  their  seats.  Their  long-winded  speeches  re- 
minded one  forcibly  of  Presbyterian  prayers  of  bygone 
352 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  SAMUEL  D.  GROSS,  M.  D.    353 

days.  An  after-dinner  speech,  to  be  at  all  tolerable,  must 
be  short  and  pointed,  and  well  seasoned  with  wit  and 
humor.  Notwithstanding  these  drawbacks,  the  heated 
atmosphere  of  the  room,  and  the  indifferent  meim^  served 
by  indifferent  waiters,  the  occasion  was  one  not  soon  to  be 
forgotten.  The  compliment  was  well  merited  by  Tyndall, 
and  was  highly  creditable  to  New  York.  Such  an  array 
of  great  men  as  graced  this  banquet  is  rarely  witnessed 
anywhere. 

Tyndall  was  bom  at  an  obscure  village,  near  Carlow, 
Ireland,  in  August,  1820,  received  a  limited  education 
under  the  direction  of  his  father,  and  evinced  at  an  early 
age  a  marked  tendency  to  the  study  of  the  physical  and 
chemical  sciences,  in  a  knowledge  of  which  he  perfected 
himself  chiefly  in  the  most  celebrated  laboratories  of  Ger- 
many, notably  those  at  Marburg  and  Berlin.  His  prog- 
ress was  rapid.  The  articles  which  he  contributed  during 
his  foreign  residence  secured  him  admission  into  the  Royal 
Society  of  London  ;  and  soon  after  his  return  he  was  hon- 
ored with  the  professorship  of  Natural  Philosophy  in  the 
Royal  Institution,  in  which,  in  1866,  he  succeeded  Fara- 
day. In  1872  he  came  to  this  country  on  a  lecture  tour, 
from  which  he  realized  more  than  fifteen  thousand  dol- 
lars. This  money  he  generously  placed  in  the  hands  of 
an  American  committee  as  a  fund  in  aid  of  students  who 
devote  themselves  to  original  research.  I  heard  Mr.  Tyn- 
dall lecture  in  this  city,  at  Horticultural  Hall,  to  a  crowded 
audience,  not  one  of  whom  in  fifty,  I  am  sure,  understood 
what  he  said.  The  subject  of  the  discourse  was  Heat.  His 
language  would  have  suited  a  scientific  audience,  but  was 
far  too  abstruse  for  a  promiscuous  one.  His  manner  was 
pleasant  enough,  but  not  striking.  He  had  none  of  the 
Irish  brogue  or  any  of  the  English  mouthing  about  him. 
In  private  life  his  manners  were  genial  and  agreeable.  I 
met  him  for  the  first  time  in  my  own  parlor  at  a  meet- 
ing of  the  Saturday  Evening  Club,  of.  which  I  was  at  the 
1—45 


354  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

time  a  member,  having  called  a  few  days  previously  at  his 
lodgings  without  finding  him. 

The  writings  of  Mr.  Tyndall  embrace  a  great  variety 
of  topics,  and  are  chiefly  in  the  form  of  essays  and  con- 
tributions to  scientific  journals.  His  pen  has  been  par- 
ticularly prolific  in  matters  connected  with  light,  heat, 
electricity,  and  the  formation  of  the  glaciers  of  the  Alps. 
The  Universities  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge  have  hon- 
ored him  with  their  degrees ;  and  it  is  not  too  much 
to  say  that  he  is  decidedly  the  foremost  scientist  in  Great 
Britain,  if  not  in  the  world.  He  has  been  a  great  worker 
in  original  research,  and  his  mind  is  cast  in  the  finest 
philosophical  mould.  He  is  a  firm  believer  in  the  evo- 
lution theory ;  and  a  few  years  ago  he  attracted  univer- 
sal attention  by  his  proposition  to  submit  the  efficacy  of 
prayer  in  the  cure  of  diseases  to  a  scientific  test.  In  per- 
son Mr.  Tyndall  is  tall  and  rather  slim,  with  a  large  mouth 
and  nose,  a  good  but  not  capacious  head,  heavy  brows,  and 
a  thoughtful  expression  of  countenance. 

December  9th,  1873. — Among  the  kind  friends  who  wel- 
comed me  and  my  family  on  our  arrival  in  Philadelphia 
in  1856,  there  was  no  one  who  received  us  more  cordially 
than  Charles  Macalester,  whose  death  occurred  this  morning 
at  his  residence  on  Spruce  Street,  at  the  age  of  seventy-five 
years.  His  health  had  been  failing  for  some  time ;  his 
gait  had  become  feeble,  much  of  his  accustomed  vivacity 
had  vanished,  and  it  was  evident  to  his  many  friends  that 
his  life  was  gradually  ebbing  away.  The  immediate  cause 
of  his  demise  was  pneumonia,  the  bane  of  old  age,  which 
yearly  slays  so  many  thousands.  Exposure  to  cold,  a  severe 
chill,  and  in  a  few  days,  often  not  more  than  three  or  four, 
the  work  is  done,  and  death  is  the  victor ! 

Charles  Macalester  was  no  common  man.  Descended 
from  a  good  Scotch  stock,  he  was  endowed  with  a  strong 
mind,  highly  improved  by  early  education  and  a  life-long 
contact  with  many  of  the  best  and  most  distinguished  men 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  355 

of  the  countty.  Friction  of  mind  with  mind  strengthens 
and  improves  ever}-  one,  and  this  was  strikingly  true  of 
my  friend.  He  saw  much  of  the  world,  and  greatly  profited 
by  his  intercourse  with  it.  His  great  business  capacity 
was  recognized  by  his  appointment,  in  early  manhood, 
as  a  director  of  the  United  States  Bank,  a  government 
office ;  and  he  subsequently  served  the  public  in  various 
other  capacities  of  trust  and  honor.  He  was  intrusted  with 
the  management  of  many  large  estates,  performed  much 
gratuitous  work,  was  liberal  in  the  bestowal  of  his  char- 
ity, and  was  often  consulted  by  persons  in  distress  on  ac- 
count of  his  wide  experience,  superior  judgment,  and  cor- 
rect business  habits.  Many  a  widow  and  orphan  had  cause 
to  bless  his  bounty  and  his  unselfish  acts.  His  death 
brought  great  sorrow  upon  this  class  of  our  citizens. 
Reared  in  the  Presbyterian  Church,  he  was  long  an  elder 
in  it,  as  well  as  a  trustee  of  the  General  Assembly.  ' '  In 
all  these  relations  to  the  church,"  says  one  who  knew  him 
intimately,  "he  was  faithful,  wise,  and  sagacious,  giving 
his  time  and  his  means  freely  to  the  furtherance  of  the 
various  schemes  of  benevolence."  Among  his  charities 
was  one  of  fifty  thousand  dollars  for  the  endowment  of  a 
college  at  St.  Paul,  Minnesota,  which  now  bears  his  hon- 
ored name. 

Mr.  Macalester  was  famous  for  his  hospitality.  No  man 
in  his  day  in  Philadelphia  entertained  more  frequently 
or  more  elegantly  than  he.  His  house  on  Spruce  Street, 
and  his  residence  at  Torresdale  on  the  bank  of  the  Dela- 
ware, twelve  miles  above  the  city,  were  long  the  resort  of 
refined  and  cultivated  persons  of  both  sexes,  native  and 
foreign.  Distinguished  strangers  were  always  sure  of  a 
cordial  welcome.  His  viands  and  his  wines  were  of  the 
best  quality,  and  ser\'ed  in  the  best  style.  His  daughter. 
Miss  Lily,  afterwards  Madame  Berghmans,  and  at  a  later 
period  Mrs.  Laughton,  always  presided  at  these  entertain- 
ments, and  by  her  grace  of  manner,  ready  wit,  and  power 


356  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

of  repartee,  added  greatly  to  the  enjoyment  of  tlie  guests. 
The  host  himself  could  always  be  depended  on  for  well- 
timed  and  well-told  anecdotes.  Broad  and  liberal  in  his 
views,  he  invited  to  his  table  all  classes  of  people — the 
Presbyterian,  the  Quaker,  the  Episcopalian,  the  Baptist, 
the  Unitarian,  and  the  Catholic ;  the  statesman  and  the 
politician,  the  actor  and  the  actress,  the  cabinet  minister 
and  the  soldier,  the  physician  and  the  apothecary,  the  law- 
yer and  the  scrivener ;  the  professor  and  the  scientist,  the 
litterateur,  and  the  journalist.  The  party  seldom  exceeded 
a  dozen  or  fourteen  ;  and  the  honored  host  never  sat  down 
when,  in  consequence  of  an  unavoidable  absence,  there 
was  an  uneven  number  of  guests.  On  such  an  occa- 
sion death  was  always  warded  ofif  by  pressing  some  one — 
generally  a  member  of  the  family  or  a  near  neighbor — into 
the  service,  or  by  retiring  some  one  of  the  company.  His 
belief  in  this  old  Scotch  prejudice  had  evidently  been 
inherited ;  or,  at  all  events,  had  taken  deep  root  in  his 
mental  organization.  The  people  of  note  whom  I  most 
frequently  met  at  Mr.  Macalester's  dinner  parties  were 
Edward  Everett,  George  Peabody,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  D. 
Gilpin,  Rev.  Dr.  Shields,  Rev.  Dr.  Beadle,  General  Van 
Vliet,  Daniel  Dougherty,  John  W.  Forney,  George  W. 
Childs,  and  Dr.  Emerson.  The  last  was  an  habituk^  a  dry 
old  stick  of  a  man,  not  without  intelligence,  but  the  quint- 
essence of  stinginess.  He  ate  many  rich  meals  at  the 
houses  of  his  friends,  but  never  gave  one  in  return.  All 
that  any  of  them  ever  received  from  him  was  half  a  dozen 
peaches  sent  from  his  farm  in  Delaware. 

Everybody  knew  Mr.  Everett.  What  a  sweet  and  gentle 
disposition  he  had,  how  gifted  he  was,  and  what  a  genial 
influence  he  shed  upon  all  with  whom  he  came  in  contact 
are  too  well  known  to  require  comment.  But  it  was  very 
different  with  Mr.  Peabody.  He  too  could  smile,  but  he 
was  a  dull,  heavy,  stalwart  man,  hard  to  arouse,  and  when 
aroused  uninteresting.     Of  the  anecdotes  told  me  of  this 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,    M.  D.  357 

money  king  by  Mr.  Macalester  none  astonished  me  more 
than  an  incident  which  occurred  during  his  last  visit  to 
this  country.  He  had  reached  New  York  early  in  July 
of  that  year,  and  he  immediately  telegraphed  for  his 
friend  to  meet  him.  ]\Ir.  Macalester  found  him  suffering 
greatly  from  the  intense  heat.  Upon  inquiry  he  ascer- 
tained that  the  great  banker  had  not  doffed  his  winter 
flannel.  "Why  don't  you  send  out  and  get  thin  under- 
wear?" was  asked.  Mr.  Peabody  replied,  "I  shall  be  at 
Danver,  Massachusetts,  in  a  few  days,  where  plenty  of  thin 
underwear  awaits  me."  It  is  difficult  to  appreciate  such 
economy.  Here  was  a  man  worth  many  millions,  all  de- 
voted to  charitable  objects,  and  yet  he  stinted  himself  in 
his  personal  comfort  for  the  sake  of  a  few  dollars.  It  was 
said  of  Johns  Hopkins,  the  founder  of  the  great  university 
of  that  name,  that  he  was  too  mean  to  wear  decent  clothes. 
Is  not  ostentation  at  the  bottom  of  such  conduct  ?  What 
else  can  it  be?  Mr.  Macalester  was  long  intimate  with 
Mr.  Peabody,  and  was  one  of  the  trustees  of  the  Peabody 
Fund  for  the  advancement  of  education  in  the  Southern 
States.  At  the  time  of  his  death  he  was  President  of  the 
St.  Andrew's  Society  of  Philadelphia,  and  presided  with 
his  usual  grace  and  dignity  at  its  annual  meeting  only  a 
few  days  before  the  sad  event.  He  was  buried  on  a  Satur- 
day, and  the  same  evening  the  Saturday  Club,  of  which 
he  was  a  member,  held  its  meeting  at  the  house  of  a 
prominent  citizen.  I  thought  the  affair  one  of  great  heart- 
lessness,  and  the  following  week  sent  in  my  resignation. 

Van  Vliet  had  a  fine  head,  with  snow-white  hair,  and  a 
face  as  red  as  the  wattles  of  a  turkey-cock.  To  wonderful 
gastronomic  powers  he  added  great  bonhomie  and  a  large 
fund  of  anecdotes  picked  up  in  his  intercourse  with  the 
world  and  in  his  travels  as  a  military  officer.  Shields  and 
Beadle  were  model  clergymen,  zealous  Presbyterians,  elo- 
quent preachers,  and  refined  Christian  gentlemen.  The 
former  was  called  early  in  life  to  a  chair  in  the  Theological 


358  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

Seminary  at  Princeton.  The  latter  died  suddenly  some 
years  ago  from  the  effects  of  overwork,  and  was  deeply 
regretted  by  the  church  and  by  all  who  knew  him. 

Durinof  the  meeting^  of  the  American  Public  Health 
Association,  which  embraces  several  thousand  of  the 
most  respectable  and  influential  citizens  of  the  country — 
men  representing  all  professions  and  all  interests — held 
in  Philadelphia,  November,  1874,  I  read,  by  request,  a 
paper  on  The  Factors  of  Disease  and  Death  after  Inju- 
ries, Parturition,  and  Surgical  Operations.  The  audience, 
although  not  large,  was  select,  and  was  presided  over  by 
Mr.  Morton  McMichael,  who  kindly  introduced  me.  The 
address  was  well  received,  except  by  a  few  physicians  who 
thought  it  bore  rather  severely,  if  not  unjustly,  upon  the 
usefulness  of  hospitals  considered  as  civic  institutions. 
It  was  afterwards  published  in  the  Transactions  of  the 
Association.  On  the  last  day  of  the  meeting  I  called 
attention  to  the  necessity  of  a  National  Sanitary  Bureau, 
to  be  located  at  Washington,  and  offered  the  following 
resolutions  to  bring  the  subject  fairly  and  forcibly  before 
the  notice  of  Congress  and  of  the  American  people : 

"  WJiereas^  It  is  the  solemn  duty  of  every  civilized  gov- 
ernment to  provide  means  for  the  safety  and  happiness  and 
preservation  of  the  health  and  lives  of  its  subjects : 

''''  And  whereas^  A  large  number  of  the  diseases  incident 
to  the  human  race  are  induced  by  causes  inherent  in  our 
modes  of  living,  and  by  a  want  of  knowledge  of  the  laws 
of  hygiene  :  Therefore  be  it 

'"''Resolved^  That  a  committee,  consisting  of  a  member 
of  this  Association  from  each  State  and  Territory  of  the 
Union,  of  which  the  president  of  this  Association  shall  be 
chairman,  be  appointed  to  petition  Congress  at  its  next 
session  to  institute  a  Bureau  of  Health,  to  be  located  at 
Washington  City,  with  a  branch  at  the  seat  of  each  State 
and  Territorial  government. 

''''Resolved^  That  we  hereby  invite  the  earnest  coopera- 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  359 

tion  of  the  auxiliary  brandies  of  tlie  Association,  and  of 
all  kindred  bodies  in  the  Union,  in  carrying  out  the  objects 
of  the  foregoing  resolution. ' ' 

Dr.  Josiah  Curtis,  of  Washington,  stated  that  such  a 
bureau  for  collecting  health  statistics  was  in  operation  in 
Europe  and  had  effected  much  good.  He  favored  the  reso- 
lution. 

Dr.  J.  J.  Woodward  asked  me  whether  this  resolution 
proposed  the  formation  of  a  body  that  would  collect  the 
statistics  of  the  whole  country,  or  whether  it  would  be 
such  a  body  as  had  been  previously  appointed  and  never 
accomplished  the  desired  result.  He  was  not  opposed  to 
the  resolution,  but  merely  wanted  efficient  action  in  the 
matter. 

I  then  addressed  the  meeting  as  follows  : 

"  I  rise,  Mr.  President,  to  ask  you  a  question  which,  in 
listening  to  the  discussions  here  a  few  mornings  ago,  has 
instinctively  come  into  my  mind,  and  you  will,  I  am  sure, 
pardon  me  if  I  take  the  liberty  of  answering  it  myself. 
The  question  is  simply  this :  What  constitutes  the  highest 
type  of  civilization  in  a  nation  ?  You  will  agree  with  me 
at  once  that  it  is  the  attention  which  it  bestows  upon  the 
preservation  of  the  health  and  lives  of  its  subjects — the 
guardianship  which  it  exercises  over  the  welfare  of  its 
people. 

"As  American  citizens  we  boast,  and  very  justly  too,  of 
our  progress  in  commerce,  agriculture,  manufactures,  lit- 
erature, the  arts  and  sciences,  and  of  the  general  diffusion 
of  knowledge  among  all  classes  of  society ;  but  what  have 
we  done  as  a  nation  for  our  sanitary  condition,  for  those 
things  which  so  vitally  concern  the  public  health,  the 
dearest  interest  of  every  family  in  the  land?  The  gov- 
ernment has  done  nothing ;  it  has  not  even  recognized  the 
necessity  of  a  great  Bureau  of  Health,  so  essential  in  a 
sanitary  point  of  view.  Our  local  boards  of  health,  as 
they  are  denominated,  are  mere  shadows,  the  creatures  for 


360  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

the  most  part  of  municipal  authorities,  who  farm  out  our 
health  and  our  lives  to  the  highest  bidder  at  so  much  a 
head.  Surely  the  first,  the  greatest  duty  of  a  nation  is  to 
protect  the  lives  of  its  citizens,  by  teaching  them  how  to 
live,  how  to  guard  against  disease,  and  how  to  improve  the 
race.  The  sanitary  condition  of  a  community  is  intimately 
associated  with  its  moral  and  religious  welfare.  People 
cannot  be  good  or  happy  if  they  are  not  healthy.  '  Clean- 
liness is  indeed  next  to  godliness,'  says  John  Wesley. 
Millions  of  our  fellow -creatures  die  every  year  from  pre- 
ventable diseases.  The  treatment  of  the  more  common 
affections,  or  such  as  are  of  daily  occurrence,  has  attained 
a  high  degree  of  perfection.  In  surgery  many  of  the  oper- 
ative procedures  are  as  perfect  as  it  is,  apparently,  possible 
to  render  them.  But  in  regard  to  what  are  known  as  the 
zymotic  diseases,  such  as  measles,  scarlatina,  whooping- 
cough,  cholera,  smallpox,  yellow  fever,  and  typhoid  fever, 
which  annually  destroy  many  millions  of  lives,  our  know- 
ledge is  still  exceedingly  defective ;  and  it  is  to  this  class 
of  affections,  especially  to  the  causes  which  underlie  their 
origin  and  propagation,  that  the  attention  of  this  Associa- 
tion should  be  mainly  directed,  and  through  it  the  atten- 
tion of  our  General  and  State  governments.  Most  of  these 
diseases  are,  under  proper  sanitar>^  regulations,  in  a  great 
measure,  if  not  wholly,  preventable.  Sensible  men  no 
longer  ascribe  the  frightful  outbreak  of  those  epidemic 
disorders  which  occasionally  ravage  whole  nations,  to  the 
wrath  of  an  offended  Deity  ;  they  know  better ;  they  know 
that  they  are  due,  for  the  most  part,  to  man's  ignorance  or 
to  man's  criminal  neglect.  At  this  very  moment,  at  Dar- 
wen,  a  manufacturing  town  in  Lancaster  County,  England, 
upwards  of  fifteen  hundred  persons,  at  least  one-sixteenth 
of  the  entire  population,  are  groaning  under  an  epidemic 
of  typhoid  fever,  due,  beyond  all  question,  to  bad  sewerage 
and  other  preventable  causes  of  sickness. 

"  Have  we  not  a  right  to  ask  for  government  assistance 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  361 

in  this  matter  ?  We  have  a  minister  of  war  and  a  minister 
of  the  navy  to  keep  the  country  in  a  condition  ready  to 
meet  any  foreign  bloodhounds  that  may  threaten  our  liber- 
ties and  deprive  us  of  our  territor>\  Why  then  should 
there  not  be  a  minister  of  health  to  see  to  our  sanitary 
affairs,  to  enable  us  the  better  to  cope  with  the  enemies 
that  visit  us  in  our  own  dwellings  and  in  those  of  our 
neighbors?  Have  we  not  a  right,  as  dutiful  citizens,  to 
claim  this  much  from  the  government?  If  a  man  robs 
me  of  my  goods,  the  law  takes  cognizance  of  the  offence, 
and  punishes  the  thief  with  fine  and  imprisonment ;  but 
when  my  neighbor  poisons  my  well,  my  food,  or  the 
air  I  breathe,  I  have  no  recourse,  unless  the  case  is 
so  plain  that  it  cannot  be  overlooked.  Every  man  de- 
sires to  live  as  long  as  possible,  and  not  only  so,  but  as 
happily  as  possible  ;  but,  owing  to  our  ignorance,  millions 
upon  millions  annually  perish  prematurely,  simply  because 
they  do  not  know  how  to  live,  and  how  to  guard  against 
the  occurrence  of  disease.  So  long  as  we  are  without 
well-organized  government  aid,  so  long  will  our  people 
from  the  lowest  to  the  highest  pay  the  penalty  of  pre- 
ventable disease. 

' '  I  have  brought  forward  these  resolutions  in  the  hope 
that  they  will  meet  the  prompt  and  undivided  approval  of 
this  meeting.  Let  the  influential  men  and  women  of  the 
country  unite  with  us  in  this  grand  effort ;  and  my  word 
for  it,  the  time  is  not  distant  when  we  shall  have  a  Health 
Department  at  the  capital  of  the  nation,  with  competent 
and  well-qualified  subordinates." 

After  further  remarks  by  Dr.  Curtis,  the  resolutions 
on  motion  of  Professor  Hartshorne  were  referred  to  the 
Special  Committee  on  Legislation. 

Upon  this  movement  the  New  York  World  of  No- 
vember 15th,  1874,  passed  some  severe  strictures  in  a 
lengthy  editorial.  It  deprecated  the  establishment  of  such 
a  bureau  on  the  ground  that  it  would  soon  fall  into  the 
I --46 


362  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

hands  of  certain  rings,  who  would  make  it  the  means  of 
extorting  money  from  the  government  instead  of  pro- 
moting the  public  interest.  The  special  committee  to 
whom  the  resolutions  were  referred  have  never  taken  any 
action  upon  the  subject,  and  thus  the  matter  remains 
where  it  was  in  its  original  form.  It  is  the  merest  soph- 
istry to  argue  against  the  value  of  such  a  department ;  the 
fact  that  it  is  liable  to  abuse,  and  that  it  might  thus  fall 
short  of  its  aims  and  ends,  is  surely  no  valid  objection  to  its 
establishment.  If  there  is  any  one  public  bureau  in  this 
country  that  is  not  open  to  abuse,  or  in  which  the  most 
shameful  abuses  are  not  constantly  carried  on,  the  people 
have  not  yet  discovered  it.  As  we  become  more  civilized 
and  enlightened  the  necessity  for  such  a  department  will 
become  more  and  more  apparent,  and  I  have  therefore  no 
doubt  of  its  ultimate  accomplishment.  The  American  Pub- 
lic Health  Association  is  a  live  body,  which  has  already 
done  vast  good,  and  which  is  daily  exciting  fresh  interest 
in  the  cause  of  sanitary  reform. 

On  Sunday,  October  4th,  1874,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Erichsen, 
who  were  very  kind  to  us  during  our  visit  to  London  in 
1872,  met  us  at  dinner.  Among  the  guests  were  Professor 
and  Mrs.  Joseph  Pancoast,  Professors  Rogers  and  Da  Costa, 
Dr.  Richard  J.  Levis,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  F.  F.  IMaury,  Miss 
Emily  Schaumburg,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Orville  Horwitz,  and 
my  two  sons.  The  memi  was  an  elaborate  one,  and  every- 
thing passed  off  pleasantly.  Three  hours,  spiced  with 
agreeable  conversation  and  followed  by  music,  were  spent 
at  table.  My  wife  talked  much  and  well ;  and  the  Erich- 
sens  seemed  to  enjoy  themselves. 

A  few  evenings  after  this  a  public  dinner  was  given  at 
Augustine's,  in  the  best  style  of  that  famous  caterer,  to 
Mr.  Erichsen  by  the  physicians  of  Philadelphia,  about 
thirty  participating.  It  was  my  privilege  to  preside  on 
the  occasion,  and  to  introduce  the  guest  of  the  evening, 
whom  of  course  everybody  present  knew,   if  not  person- 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  363 

ally,  at  all  events  by  liis  writings,  which  have  given  him 
a  world-wide  reputation.  The  Art  and  Science  of  Sur- 
gery has  passed  through  many  editions  both  in  England 
and  in  this  country ;  and  during  our  late  war  it  was 
placed  on  the  supply-table  to  the  number  of  more  than 
five  thousand  copies.  Mr.  Erichsen  was  in  his  happiest 
mood ;  and  his  speech,  conceived  in  the  best  taste,  was 
received  with  rapturous  applause.  Similar  compliments 
were  paid  to  him  in  Baltimore  and  New  York,  if  not 
also  in  Boston ;  and  the  great  surgeon  left  our  shores  well 
pleased  with  his  visit. 

On  Saturday,  December  12th,  at  my  college  clinic,  I 
operated  upon  a  woman  for  strangulated  femoral  hernia, 
cut  a  boy  for  stone  in  the  bladder,  amputated  a  leg  for  a 
girl,  and  operated  upon  a  child  for  harelip.  In  addition 
to  this  work,  I  prescribed  for  many  clinical  patients  and 
visited  a  number  of  persons  in  different  parts  of  the 
city,  three  of  them  in  consultation.  In  the  evening  I 
attended  a  social  gathering,  returning  at  eleven  o'clock. 
This  assuredly  was  a  large  day's  work  for  a  man  near  the 
latter  half  of  his  seventieth  year ;  and  yet  I  bore  it  all 
wonderfully  well,  being  not  so  much  fatigued  as  I  often 
was  in  my  younger  days  with  less  labor  upon  my  hands. 

The  death  of  a  good  and  virtuous  wife  is  the  greatest 
calamity  that  can  befall  a  human  being,  a  blow  well  calcu- 
lated to  stagger  the  stoutest  heart,  and  to  render  one's 
future  life  a  complete  blank.  Death  had  been  absent  from 
my  family  for  nearly  a  third  of  a  century,  when,  on  Sun- 
day evening  the  27th  of  Februar}-,  1876,  I  was  called  upon 
along  with  my  children  to  mourn  the  departure  of  the 
noble  woman  who  for  nearly  forty-eight  years  had  been 
the  sharer  of  my  joys  and  sorrows,  and  between  whom 
and  myself  there  had  always  existed  the  wannest  and 
purest  attachment.  She  expired  at  half  past  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening  in  my  arms,  and  in  the  presence  of  her  son 


364  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

Haller,  who  liad  watched  all  day  at  her  bedside,  in  assid- 
uous and  tender  devotion  to  her  wants.  Samuel  was 
absent  at  the  time,  but  arrived  soon  after  the  sad  event. 
My  two  daughters  reached  the  house  shortly  after  ten 
o'clock — a  despatch  having  been  sent  to  Louisa  to  come 
on  without  delay.  Fortunately  she  was  accompanied  by 
Maria,  who  had  gone  home  only  six  days  previously,  after 
having  been  with  her  dear  mother  for  the  last  two  months 
of  her  life,  and  was  persuaded  that  she  must  be  danger- 
ously ill.  Although  my  wife  had  suffered  more  than 
usual  during  the  last  week  of  her  life,  I  felt  no  special 
anxiety  respecting  her  condition  until  about  eighteen 
hours  before  her  death,  when,  for  the  first  time,  symptoms 
of  a  grave  character  set  in.  The  neuralgic  pains  under 
which  she  had  so  long  labored  had  been  uncommonly  se- 
vere the  previous  evening ;  but  under  the  influence  of  her 
accustomed  dose  of  chloral  and  of  the  hypodermic  injection 
of  a  grain  of  morphia  she  soon  fell  into  a  comparatively 
comfortable  sleep  until  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
when  she  awoke  and  complained  of  severe  pain  in  the  right 
shoulder  and  epigastric  region.  Her  mind  began  to  wander, 
and  her  delirium  soon  assumed  a  most  distressing  form, 
manifesting  itself  in  constant  moans  and  incoherent  ex- 
pressions. At  half  past  four  o'clock  I  summoned  my 
sons  to  her  bedside ;  for  I  was  now  grievously  alarmed, 
and  afraid  she  might  die  at  any  moment.  Another  hypo- 
dermic injection  of  morphia  was  administered,  which,  with 
brandy  and  milk,  had  the  effect  of  putting  her  into  a  tran- 
quil sleep,  which  lasted  until  after  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  She  then  awoke,  and,  with  the  exception  of 
occasional  snatches  of  sleep,  continued  more  or  less  deliri- 
ous and  incoherent  until  she  expired.  Several  hours  be- 
fore her  death  she  suffered,  at  intervals,  from  nausea  and 
also  from  vomiting.  Her  chief  complaint  during  the  day 
and  evening  was  pain  referred  to  the  right  shoulder  and  to 
the  pit  of  the  stomach.     She  died  without  a  groan,  and 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  365 

evidently,  as  far  as  could  be  determined,  without  con- 
sciousness that  her  end  was  at  hand.  She  had  been  told 
early  in  the  day  that  Louisa  had  been  telegraphed  for,  and 
in  her  delirium  she  several  times  spoke  of  her  by  name. 
I  was  with  her  all  day,  except  from  one  to  two  o'clock, 
when  I  was  compelled  to  visit  a  patient  in  consultation. 
Six  da\-s  before  her  death  she  rode  with  me  to  the  upper 
part  of  the  city ;  and,  although  she  was  a  good  deal 
fatisrued,  she  seemed  to  be  none  the  worse  for  the  effort. 
For  the  next  few  days,  however,  her  neuralgia  assumed  an 
unusual  degree  of  severity.  On  Friday  evening  she  was 
so  much  better  that  she  spent  several  hours  in  light  read- 
ing, and  was  deeply  interested  in  the  bouquets  sent  to 
Samuel  and  Haller  by  some  of  their  lady  friends ;  it  was 
the  night  of  a  leap-year  ball  which  they  both  attended, 
returning  at  a  late  hour. 

My  dear  wife  had  suffered  more  or  less  severely  from 
neuralgia  and  dyspepsia  for  upwards  of  ten  years.  I  had 
visited  Europe  twice  on  account  of  her  health — first  in 
1868,  and  again  in  1872 — and  on  both  occasions  she  was 
much  benefited.  During  her  last  visit  she  was  very  ill  at 
Oxford,  and  again  for  a  short  time  at  London.  However, 
she  was  able  on  the  13th  of  June  to  attend  the  Exercises  in 
the  University,  and  was  greatly  pleased  at  seeing  me  re- 
ceive the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Civil  Laws.  On  our  return 
voyage  she  suffered  much  from  seasickness,  and  was  but 
once  on  deck. 

These  neuralgic  pains,  together  with  frequent  attacks 
of  dyspepsia,  gradually  undermined  her  health,  and  at 
length  wore  out  the  machinery  of  life.  In  reflecting 
upon  her  case,  the  surprise  is  not  that  she  died,  but 
that  she  held  out  so  long.  At  her  death  she  was  nearly 
sixty -eight  years  and  a  half  old.  I  attribute  her  vital 
tenacity  to  the  wonderful  elasticity  of  her  system,  and  to 
her  determination  to  live  despite  the  sufferings  which  her 
ailments  inflicted  upon  her.     Something,   no  doubt,  was 


366  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF 

also  due  to  my  care  of  her ;  to  the  incessant  vigilance  with 
which  I  regarded  her  case ;  and  to  the  promptness  with 
which  I  met  the  indications  of  her  symptoms.  If  she  had 
not  been  the  wife  of  a  physician,  her  life,  I  am  satisfied, 
would  have  been  much  shorter  and  her  suffering  much 
more  severe. 

I  made  the  acquaintance  of  my  wife  in  1827,  i^  ^^^ 
month  of  April,  while  I  was  a  student  at  the  Jefferson  Med- 
ical College,  in  the  third  year  of  my  pupilage.  If  we  did 
not  fall  in  love  at  first  sight,  we  soon  became  warmly  at- 
tached to  each  other.  Our  attachment  culminated  in  a 
few  months  in  an  engagement  which  was  consummated 
the  following  year,  she  being  at  the  time  in  her  twenty- 
first  year  and  I  in  my  twenty-third.  We  were  both  poor, 
and  our  affection  was  therefore  of  a  pure  and  unselfish 
character.  My  wife  was  pretty,  highly  cultured  for  one  of 
her  age,  and  a  fine  musician,  both  as  a  vocalist  and  pianist, 
with  charming  manners.  By  the  father's  side  her  descent 
was  German  ;  by  the  mother's,  English.  She  was  born  at 
Kensington,  near  London,  August  22d,  1807,  during  a  visit 
of  her  parents  to  England.  Both  parents  died  when  she 
was  quite  young.  Her  mother,  whose  maiden  name  was 
Davis,  and  who  was  educated  at  the  celebrated  female 
seminary  at  Bethlehem,  Pennsylvania,  was  an  elegant,  re- 
fined, and  highly  accomplished  woman,  from  whom  her 
daughter  evidently  inherited  her  musical  talents,  after- 
wards transmitted  to  her  own  children  and  grandchildren. 
Her  father's  name  was  Frederick  Weissell,  a  Prussian 
gentleman.  As  the  time  for  our  marriage  drew  nigh,  my 
wife's  friends  tried  hard  to  break  off  the  engagement,  on 
the  ground  that  I  was  in  ill  health,  and  that  she  would 
therefore,  ere  long,  again  become  a  widow.  Their  efforts, 
however,  were  unavailing.  The  truth  is  that  my  health 
was  not  materially  impaired  ;  I  was  only  a  little  dyspeptic, 
and  somewhat  overworked.  The  fact  that  I  have  lived  to 
the  age  of  nearly  seventy-one  years  is  a  sufficient  proof,  at 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  367 

all  events,  that  I  had  a  good  constitution,  and  that  I  had 
no  organic  disease  at  the  time  referred  to.  I  have,  in  the 
main,  all  my  life  enjoyed  excellent  health,  which  is  so 
much  the  more  surprising,  considering  the  great  amount 
of  labor  I  have  performed  as  a  practitioner,  as  a  writer,  as 
a  teacher,  and  as  an  operating  surgeon. 

In  reflecting  upon  my  married  life  I  have  great  reason 
for  thankfulness.  It  was  an  eminently  happy  life.  Few 
men  have  ever  been  so  blessed  in  their  matrimonial  rela- 
tions. The  attachment  formed  in  our  young  days  grad- 
ually increased  in  intensity  as  we  advanced  in  years,  and 
burned  with  a  steady  flame  until  my  wife  expired  in  my 
arms,  mingling  thus  her  last  breath  with  mine.  I  know  of 
nothing  more  touching  than  the  sight  of  a  young  and  loving 
wife  encouraging  her  husband  in  his  efforts  to  earn  a  live- 
lihood for  his  family,  and  watching  his  rising  fame.  It 
reminds  one  of  the  nurser}^man  watering  his  plants  and 
watching  the  unfolding  of  their  petals.  Such  was  my 
wife.  She  was  contented  with  her  lot,  and  sympathized 
in  all  my  movements,  labors,  and  aspirations.  I  never 
knew  her  to  be  guilty  of  one  selfish  act.  Her  ambition 
always  was  to  accommodate  herself  to  circumstances.  She 
ever  exercised  a  laudable  economy.  Unlike  many  of  the 
women  around  her,  she  never  lived  above  her  means  or 
her  husband's  income.  She  took  great  pride  in  making 
her  house  attractive  to  her  husband,  her  children,  and  her 
friends.  Her  musical  talents,  her  remarkable  intelligence, 
her  fine  conversational  powers,  and  her  genial  disposition 
drew  around  her  a  coterie  of  friends,  always  as  welcome  as 
they  were  improved  and  gratified,  and  made  her  one  of 
the  most  attractive  women  in  the  social  circle  whom  I 
have  ever  known.  She  was  especially  fond  of  young 
persons ;  she  delighted  to  converse  with  them,  and  to 
give  them  good  advice.  Not  a  few  of  her  more  intimate 
young  friends  were  indebted  to  her  for  spiritual  counsel 
and  guidance.     Into  the  hands  of  a  number  of  them  she 


368  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

placed  Nelson  on  Infidelity,  Mcllvaine  on  the  Evidences 
of  Christianity,  and  similar  works,  with  a  view  of  con- 
finning  their  faith  in  the  truth  and  beauty  of  the  Chris- 
tian relio;ion.  Althouo-h  she  was  fond  of  fashionable  so- 
ciety,  she  never  allowed  herself  to  be  influenced  by  its 
exactions,  or  to  be  drawn  aside  by  its  allurements.  She 
had  a  winsome  smile  and  a  cordial  shake  of  the  hand 
for  every  one  who  approached  her.  Her  laugh  was  infec- 
tious. During  her  residence  in  Louisville,  it  was  a  com- 
mon thing  for  her  and  for  her  two  neighbors,  Mrs.  Graves 
and  Mrs.  Preston,  on  a  pleasant  summer  evening,  to  walk 
up  and  down  on  the  pavement,  in  front  of  their  respec- 
tive houses,  talking  innocent  gossip,  interspersed  with 
laughter  that  made  the  welkin  ring.  Her  reading  was 
varied  and  extensive  ;  and  she  had  the  happy  faculty, 
possessed  by  few  persons,  of  getting  at  the  marrow  of  a 
book  with  marvellous  rapidity.  During  the  latter  years 
of  her  life  her  reading  was  confined,  in  great  measure,  to 
religious  books,  especially  the  Bible  and  Barnes's  Notes  on 
the  New  Testament,  and  to  novels,  of  which  one  or  more 
were  almost  constantly  upon  her  table.  She  also  read  a 
good  many  newspapers,  and  she  was  possessed  of  an  exten- 
sive knowledge  of  the  events  of  the  day.  Her  memory  was 
excellent,  and  she  could  converse,  generally  with  ease  and 
fluency,  upon  almost  any  literary  topic.  She  was  particu- 
larly well  versed  in  mythological  lore,  of  which  she  had  in 
early  life  been  a  zealous  student.  One  of  the  great  sources 
of  her  happiness,  during  the  last  three  years  of  her  life, 
when  unable  to  read  on  account  of  a  weakness  of  her  eyes, 
was  to  amuse  herself  in  the  evening  with  the  game  of 
solitaire^  taught  her  by  her  only  sister,  Mrs,  Casey.  Not 
less  than  an  hour — sometimes  even  twice  that  time — was 
passed  in  this  way  for  evenings  together,  especially  during 
the  long  winter  nights. 

With  my  wife  religion  was  not  a  mere  sentiment ;   it 
was  a  positive  reality.     Reared  in  the  Episcopal  Church, 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  369 

the  church  of  her  forefathers  by  the  mother's  side,  she 
was  a  scrupulous  observ^er  of  its  rites  and  ceremonies,  and 
a  devout  believer  in  the  truth  of  its  doctrines.  A  Sunday 
missed  from  church  was  to  her  a  Sunday  lost.  She  ac- 
cepted, without  reservation,  the  teachings  both  of  the  Old 
and  the  New  Testament  as  emanations  from  the  Deity — 
as  the  writings  of  men  directly  inspired  by  God.  Upon 
this  subject  she  was  intolerant  of  the  slightest  scepticism. 
Her  familiarity  with  the  Bible  enabled  her  readily  to  quote 
almost  any  of  its  more  important  passages.  She  was  a 
frequent  reader  of  Bishop  Mcllvaine's  Evidences  of  Chris- 
tianity. The  author,  for  whom  she  had  a  warm  regard, 
was  a  personal  friend,  and  a  copy  of  the  work  was  pre- 
sented to  her  by  him  during  his  sojourn  in  our  house  at 
Louisville  nearly  twenty-five  years  ago.  In  the  religion  of 
the  Episcopal  Church  she  strove  to  educate  her  children. 

I  cannot  finish  this  brief  sketch  of  the  character  of  my 
wife  without  bearing  witness  to  her  kind  and  charitable 
disposition,  to  her  refined  tastes,  and  to  the  delicacy  of  her 
language  in  her  ordinary  intercourse  with  her  family  and 
her  domestics,  or  with  what  properly  constitutes  one's 
household.  No  unrefined  expression  ever  passed  her  lips  ; 
nor  would  she  tolerate  such  an  expression  in  others.  In 
a  word,  her  walk  and  conversation  were,  under  all  cir- 
cumstances, pure  and  delicate.  An  oath  uttered  in  her 
presence  was  almost  an  unpardonable  oflfence,  causing  a 
shudder  to  run  through  her  frame.  She  had  a  great 
love  for  flowers  —  a  love  which  she  instilled  into  her 
children,  and  from  which  she  herself  derived  great  hap- 
piness. She  was  a  good  judge  of  a  picture,  and  an  admirer 
of  art  in  its  higher  forms.  She  was  a  frequent  visitor  of 
our  beautiful  park,  and  accompanied  me  in  many  a  ride, 
especially  in  summer  and  autumn,  through  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  city  abounding  in  fine  rural  scenery  and 
pleasant  drives.  It  was  only  about  eight  months  before 
her  death  that  I  bought  for  her  special  use  in  New  York, 
1—47 


370 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


a  cabriolet  with  low  steps,  that  she  might  have  no  dif- 
ficulty in  getting  into  and  out  of  it.  It  was  a  source  of 
great  enjoyment  to  her. 

It  only  remains  that  I  should  speak  of  her  as  a  wife  and 
as  a  mother.  In  both  of  these  relations  her  conduct  was 
eminently  exemplary.  As  a  wife,  she  was  warm-hearted, 
tender,  loving,  confiding,  sympathizing,  ever  ready  to  per- 
form kind  offices,  to  anticipate  wants,  and  to  take  an  active 
interest  in  everything  pertaining  to  my  welfare.  I  know 
she  loved  me  with  an  intense  ardor.  I  need  not  add  how 
fondly  I  was  attached  to  her,  and  how  constantly  I  strove 
to  augment  her  happiness.  Her  very  sufferings  endeared 
her  to  me.  Is  this  at  all  surprising  when  it  is  remembered 
that  our  married  life  extended  over  a  period  of  nearly  forty- 
eight  years  ?  I  found  in  her  a  wise  counsellor ;  and  I  sel- 
dom wrote  an  address,  introductory  discourse,  or  valedictory 
without  submitting  the  manuscript  to  her  inspection  and 
adopting  her  criticisms.  She  had  excellent  taste  and 
fine  judgment.  Early  in  our  married  life  she  copied  a 
number  of  papers  for  me,  principally  notes  on  scientific 
treatises ;  but  she  never  wrote  any  of  my  discourses  or 
published  works.  She  was  an  admirable  letter-writer, 
composing  rapidly  and  fluently,  always  clothing  her  senti- 
ments in  apposite  and  correct  language. 

As  a  mother  she  was  in  every  respect  quite  as  exem- 
plary ;  warm-hearted,  generous,  indulgent,  and  yet  exact- 
ing, with  an  eye  constantly  alive  to  the  moral  and  religious 
training  of  her  children.  I  do  not  think  there  ever  was  a 
more  loving,  fond,  or  doting  mother;  and  the  best  proof 
of  the  truth  of  this  opinion  is  that  her  children  literally 
idolized  her.  Always  unselfish,  it  seemed  as  if  all  her 
efforts  were  bent  upon  making  them  and  their  father 
happy.  Her  grandchildren — seven  in  number — were  most 
fondly  attached  to  her ;  and  in  her  departure  they  have  lost 
one  of  their  dearest,  tenderest,  and  most  devoted  friends. 

This  good  woman — the  crown  and  jewel  of  a  wife — never 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  371 

had  an  enemy.  If  she  ever  gave  oflfence,  it  grew  out  of 
unavoidable  circumstances.  She  harbored  no  enmity  or 
ill  feeling.  Her  generous  nature  did  not  admit  of  such  an 
indulgence.  She  was  emphatically  the  friend  of  human 
kind,  and  an  avowed  enemy  to  harshness  and  cruelty, 
whether  inflicted  upon  man  or  the  lower  animals.  She 
considered  life  a  great  boon,  and  was  ever  in  favor  of  its 
largest  enjoyment.  If  she  did  not  engage  in  works  which 
brought  her  before  the  public,  it  was  simply  because  her 
delicate  and  sensitive  nature  shrank  from  the  public  gaze. 
Her  private  charities,  although  not  numerous,  were  credit- 
able to  her  heart  and  in  accord  with  her  means. 

My  wife,  as  already  stated,  died  on  the  27th  of  February, 
and  was  buried  on  Wednesday,  March  ist,  the  funeral  being 
strictly  private.  The  pall-bearers  were  Dr.  P.  J.  Horwitz, 
U.  S.  N. ,  brother  of  my  two  sons-in-law,  and  formerly  Chief 
of  the  Bureau  of  Medicine  and  Surgery  at  Washington; 
Mr.  Henry  C.  Carey  ;  Professor  Joseph  Pancoast ;  and  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Edmund  C.  Bittinger,  Chaplain  U.  S.  Navy — all 
intimate  and  valued  friends.  The  services  were  performed 
at  the  house  by  the  Rev.  C.  George  Currie.  My  two  sons, 
two  daughters  with  their  husbands,  my  wife's  sister,  Mrs. 
Casey,  Mrs.  Pancoast,  and  Mrs.  F.  F.  Maury,  with  our  ser- 
vants, and  Rev.  Dr.  William  Rudder,  of  St.  Stephen's 
Church,  were  the  only  persons  present.  The  exercises 
were  brief,  but  solemn  and  impressive ;  the  day  was  cold 
and  cloudy.  The  body  was  tenderly  laid  away  in  the  fam- 
ily vault  at  Woodlands  Cemeten%  West  Philadelphia,  in  a 
lot  since  inclosed  with  curbing  and  embellished  with  roses, 
geraniums,  and  heliotropes.  The  lot  is  beautifully  situ- 
ated, and  is  all  that  could  be  desired  as  the  resting-place  of 
one  so  much  loved  and  so  much  missed.  She  herself  had 
often  visited  the  cemetery,  and  expressed  her  satisfaction 
at  the  beauty  of  its  arrangements,  its  interesting  site  on 
the  west  bank  of  the  Schuylkill,  the  abundance  of  its 
floral  decorations,   and  the  songs  of  its  numerous  birds 


372  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

perched  upon  lofty  trees,  rendering  the  air  musical  with 
their  melody.  Here  I  expect  ere  long  to  repose  myself  by 
the  side  of  the  woman  whom  I  so  much  loved,  and  whose 
loss  has  left  me  in  a  state  of  utter  desolation  at  a  period  of 
life  when  I  am  so  greatly  in  need  of  that  domestic  comfort 
which  she  knew  so  well  how  to  administer,  and  of  which  I 
was  for  nearly  half  a  century  the  happy  recipient.  Thus 
we  all,  sooner  or  later,  come  to  realize  the  words  of  the 
poet : 

"The  night  hath  a  thousand  eyes, 

The  day  but  one; 
But  the  light  of  the  whole  world  dies 

At  set  of  sun. 

"And  the  mind  has  a  thousand  eyes, 
The  heart  but  one; 
Yet  the  light  of  a  whole  life  dies 
When  love  is  done." 

My  dear  wife's  tomb  bears  the  following  simple  in- 
scription : 

"A  Noble,  Christian  Woman." 

Eight  children  were  born  to  us — three  daughters  and 
five  sons.  Joseph,  Frederick,  and  Hunter  died  in  in- 
fancy. Julia,  the  eldest,  was  called  away  in  her  ninth 
year.  She  was  a  child  of  great  intelligence,  sprightliness, 
and  promise,  and  her  death  caused  her  mother  and  myself 
much  grief  and  suffering.  Even  after  the  lapse  of  nearly 
forty  years,  when  I  look  back  to  that  event,  the  first  shadow 
that  overcast  our  domestic  life,  I  never  fail  to  heave  a  deep 
sigh.  To  me  this  affliction  came  with  double  force.  A 
great  sufferer  in  her  infancy,  I  nursed  her  every  night  to 
afford  her  mother  rest,  exhausted  as  she  generally  was  by 
the  labors  of  the  day ;  and  during  full  nine  months  the 
dear  child  lay  in  my  arms  during  those  weary  hours.  The 
immediate  cause  of  her  death  was  arachnitis,  brought  on, 
apparently,  by  a  severe  cold  as  she  was  returning  from 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  373 

school  one  day  in  February.  A  singular  discovery  was 
made  in  the  examination  of  the  body  after  death.  In  the 
upper  lobe  of  the  left  lung,  near  its  middle,  lay  coiled  up  a 
piece  of  worsted  about  an  inch  in  length,  which  she  must 
have  accidentally  inhaled  in  a  fit  of  coughing  some  weeks, 
perhaps  months,  before  her  last  illness,  as  was  proved  by 
the  fact  that  the  tissues  in  immediate  contact  with  it  were 
slightly  ulcerated  and  indurated.  Had  Julia  been  spared 
to  us,  there  is  ever}'  reason  to  believe  that  she  would  have 
made  a  brilliant,  if  not  a  great  woman.  Her  love  for  read- 
ing and  stud^'ing  was  remarkable ;  and  she  had  a  quick, 
active,  observing  mind,  apt  in  imbibing  knowledge.  She 
never  seemed  to  be  so  happy  as  when  she  was  sitting  by 
herself  in  a  corner  of  a  room  with  a  copy  of  the  Arabian 
Nights  on  her  knees.  In  this  manner  she  would  often 
spend  hours  together,  apparently  forgetful  of  self  and 
everything  around  her.  Her  fondness  and  capacity  for 
music  were  unusual,  and  were  manifestly  the  result  of 
hereditary  transmission  on  the  mother's  side.  Long  be- 
fore she  was  three  years  old  she  sang  with  much  expres- 
sion a  number  of  songs  and  played  several  pieces  on  the 
piano.  In  form  she  was  ver}'  graceful ;  in  temper,  sweet 
and  loving ;  in  disposition,  social ;  in  her  attachments, 
warm  and  steadfast.  Without  being  what  may  be  called  a 
beauty,  her  features  were  attractive,  and  denotive  of  great 
intelligence  ;  her  eyes  and  hair  were  black.  Of  the  three 
boys  who  died  in  infancy,  all  that  I  can  say  is  that  they 
were  handsome  children.  What  would  have  become  of 
them  had  they  lived  is  a  mystery.  Like  matrimony, 
the  life  of  a  child  is  a  lottery,  in  which  there  are  many 
blanks  and  few  prizes.  Life  at  best  is  a  struggle ; 
and  there  are  few  youths  who  reach  the  goal  of  their 
ambition. 

Of  my  surviving  children  it  does  not  become  me  to 
speak.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  my  two  sons  are  actively  en- 
gaged in  the  practice  of  their  respective  professions,  medi- 


374 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


cine  and  law ;  and  that  my  daughters,  two  aflfectionate  and 
accomplished  women,  are  happily  married  to  cultured  and 
refined  gentlemen,  distinguished  members  of  the  Baltimore 
bar. 

I  stated  elsewhere  that  I  have  seldom  lost  a  lecture  from 
illness.  Last  December,  however,  in  consequence  of  a 
severe  cold,  seriously  ajBfecting  my  larynx,  I  was  pre- 
vented for  one  entire  month  from  meeting  my  class.  For 
nearly  half  of  this  time  I  was  barely  able  to  speak  in  a 
whisper.  My  strength,  too,  had  given  way  ;  and,  although 
I  did  not  at  any  time  consider  myself  decidedly  ill,  some 
of  my  friends,  and  especially  my  dear  wife,  felt  uneasy 
about  the  result.  When  I  resumed  my  lectures  on  the 
first  day  of  the  year  1876  I  was  still  very  feeble ;  and 
when  my  domestic  affliction  took  place,  on  the  27th  of 
February,  my  strength  was  still  somewhat  impaired.  The 
terrible  blow  again  exhausted  me ;  and  it  was  not  until 
after  several  weeks  of  sea-bathing  at  Cape  May,  an  exer- 
cise of  which  I  have  always  been  very  fond,  that  my  health 
was  perfectly  restored. 

In  the  winter  of  1874  the  Philadelphia  County  Medical 
Society  appointed  a  committee,  consisting  of  thirteen  of  its 
members,  with  myself  as  its  chairman,  to  devise  plans  for 
the  organization  of  an  International  Medical  Congress  to 
convene  in  this  city  in  1876.  After  a  number  of  meetings 
the  different  medical  societies  of  Philadelphia  were  em- 
braced in  the  scheme ;  and  a  joint  committee  of  delegates 
was  appointed,  known  as  the  Centennial  Medical  Com- 
mission, with  power  to  perfect  all  the  arrangements  neces- 
sary for  holding  the  Congress  and  pushing  it  to  a  successful 
issue.  The  labors  of  this  committee  were  immense,  in- 
volving numerous  meetings,  a  heavy  and  extensive  corre- 
spondence, an  uncommon  degree  of  executive  ability,  and 
a  considerable  outlay  of  money.  As  the  Commission  was 
found  to  be  too  bulky,  its  work  was  finally  confided  to  a 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  375 

Committee  of  Arrangements,  who,  in  the  end,  did  it  ample 
justice,  as  was  shown  by  the  success  of  the  Congress. 

The  Congress  convened  in  this  city  at  twelve  o'clock 
noon,  September  4th,  1876,  in  the  Chapel  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  Pennsylvania,  kindly  placed  at  its  disposal  by  the 
Trustees  and  Faculty  of  that  institution.  It  was  opened 
with  prayer  by  the  Right  Rev.  William  Bacon  Stevens, 
Bishop  of  Pennsylvania,  after  having  been  called  to  order 
by  myself  as  Chairman  of  the  Centennial  Medical  Commis- 
sion. The  attendance  of  delegates  and  citizens  was  large, 
the  room  being  well  filled.  A  committee,  consisting  of 
thirteen — nine  Americans  and  four  foreigners — had  been 
appointed  two  days  previously  by  the  Committee  of  Ar- 
rangements to  nominate  officers  for  the  Congress.  After 
my  address  of  welcome  they  reported  partially  the  re- 
sults of  their  deliberations.  I  was  selected  to  be  the  presi- 
dent without  one  dissenting  voice — an  unsolicited  compli- 
ment. The  names  of  thirteen  vice-presidents  were  then 
announced,  at  the  head  of  whom  was  Dr.  Paul  F.  Eve, 
of  Nashville,  Tennessee.  The  list  embraced  a  Japanese 
professor.  Dr.  H.  INIiyake,  of  the  Medical  College  of  Tokio, 
and  a  number  of  distinguished  American  and  foreign  dele- 
gates. Dr.  Barnes,  Surgeon-General  U.  S.  A.,  and  Dr.  H. 
V.  P.  Beale,  Chief  of  the  Bureau  of  Medicine  and  Surgery, 
Washington  City,  were  elected  Honorary  Vice-Presidents, 
but  neither  of  them  attended  the  meeting.  Dr.  I.  Minis 
Hays,  son  of  the  veteran  editor  of  the  American  Journal 
of  the  Medical  Sciences,  was  appointed  Secretary.  The 
Assistant  Secretaries  were  Dr.  W.  B.  Atkinson,  Dr.  Rich- 
ard J.  Dunglison,  Dr.  Richard  A.  Cleemann,  Dr.  William 
W.  Keen,  and  Dr.  R.  M.  Bertolet.  The  session  lasted  an 
entire  week.  The  addresses  delivered  on  the  progress  of 
American  Medicine  during  the  last  one  hundred  years  were 
for  the  most  part  highly  interesting ;  a  great  deal  of  work 
was  done  in  the  Sections,  nine  in  number ;  the  utmost  har- 
mony prevailed  throughout :  and  the  Congress  was  a  success 


376  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

in  all  its  details.  Four  hundred  and  forty-two  delegates,  of 
whom  seventy-one  were  foreigners,  were  in  attendance,  re- 
presenting the  British  Dominion,  Australia,  England,  Ire- 
land and  Scotland,  Belgium,  Germany,  Austria,  Russia, 
Sweden,  Norway,  Finland,  Greece,  Cuba,  Mexico,  Japan, 
and  China.  To  preside  over  such  a  body  of  men,  many  of 
them  of  high  reputation  as  scientists,  teachers,  and  writers, 
I  esteemed  a  great  honor,  and  so  expressed  myself  on  taking 
the  chair,  adding  that  I  considered  it  not  so  much  a  tribute 
to  myself  personally  as  to  the  physicians  of  Philadelphia, 
through  whose  agency  the  meeting  had  taken  place. 
The  public  dinner  of  the  Congress  took  place  at  St 
George's  Hall  on  Friday  evening,  September  8th.  I  oc- 
cupied the  chair,  with  Professor  Lister,  of  Edinburgh,  on 
my  right,  and  Governor  Hartranft  on  my  left.  About  one 
hundred  and  sixty  gentlemen  sat  down.  I  must  not  forget 
to  add  that  my  address  of  welcome  was  well  received  and 
favorably  noticed  by  the  press — medical  and  lay.  The 
Congress,  the  Transactions  of  which  are  to  be  published, 
under  the  editorship  of  Dr.  John  Ashhurst,  Jr. ,  at  an  early 
day,  was  undoubtedly  the  best  meeting  of  a  medical  char- 
acter ever  held  on  this  continent,  whether  we  consider  the 
talents,  scientific  attainments,  and  position  of  its  members, 
or  the  amount  and  character  of  its  work. 

The  lotli  of  February,  1877,  witnessed  the  death  of  one 
of  the  greatest  surgeons  of  the  age.  Sir  William  Fergusson, 
at  his  residence  in  London  at  the  age  of  sixty-nine  years. 
The  newspapers  state  that  his  health  had  been  for  some 
time  declining,  and  that  the  event  had  consequently  not 
been  unexpected.  The  immediate  cause  of  his  demise  was 
exhaustion  from  renal  disease,  accompanied  with  dropsy. 
During  my  sojourn  in  London  in  1868  and  1872  I  saw  Fer- 
gusson repeatedly,  first  at  King's  College  Hospital,  in  his 
capacity  of  clinical  surgeon ;  secondly,  as  President  of  the 
Royal  College  of  Surgeons ;  and  lastly  as  Chairman  of  the 
Surgical  Section  of  the  British  Medical  Association  at  its 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  377 

meeting  at  Birmingham,  in  August,  1872.  In  all  these 
relations,  as  well  as  in  private  life,  he  bore  himself  with 
the  demeanor  of  a  well-bred  gentleman,  although  his 
manner  was  at  all  times  cold  and  formal.  His  physique 
was  splendid :  in  height  he  was  fully  six  feet,  with 
broad  shoulders,  a  large  head,  and  well-formed  features, 
the  tout  ensemble  betokening  a  strong  and  highly-cul- 
tured intellect  incased  in  a  vigorous  frame.  He  might  be 
said  to  have  been  a  prince  of  a  man.  He  had  some- 
what of  a  Scotch  accent,  and  was  slow  of  speech,  stately 
in  his  movements,  and  quite  erect  in  his  gait.  As  an 
operator  he  possessed  great  dexterity,  and  he  was  generally 
acknowledged  to  be  without  a  rival  in  the  British  me- 
tropolis. He  certainly  was  master  of  his  knife ;  and  yet  I 
saw  him  do  things  wdiich  I  had  often  seen  done  quite  as 
well  before,  both  at  home  and  abroad.  What  more  espe- 
cially impressed  me  was  his  calm  and  deliberate  manner. 
There  was  no  display  or  parade  about  him.  He  went 
about  his  business  like  an  ordinary  laborer  who  was  not 
in  a  hurr>'  to  finish  his  task.  The  movements  of  his 
hands  were  slow  and  measured,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
nothing  could  disturb  his  equanimity.  These  are  cer- 
tainly high  attributes  in  an  operator.  As  a  lecturer  he 
was  dull,  monotonous,  inanimate,  and  deficient  in  power 
of  expression.  No  one  who  listened  to  him  while  he 
was  explaining  the  history  of  a  case  could  fail  to  be 
struck  with  the  paucity  of  his  language,  or  the  inad- 
equacy of  his  remarks.  To  me  it  seemed  as  if  he 
took  everything  for  granted  ;  as  if  the  pupil  knew  as 
much  about  the  matter  as  the  master.  "This,  gentle- 
men," he  said  on  one  occasion,  "this,  gentlemen,  is  a 
fatty  tumor,  seated  in  the  man's  neck  ;  it  was  first  noticed 
some  six  years  ago,  and  had,  as  you  noticed,  strong  attach- 
ments. The  patient  is  a  butcher  by  occupation,  and  he 
will,  I  think,  do  well."  On  another  occasion  he  per- 
fonned  his  favorite  operation  of  staphylorraphy  without 
1—48 


378  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

uttering  one  word  of  explanation  as  to  the  manner  of 
executing  it.  Sucli  clinical  teaching  would  hardly  be 
tolerated  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  Here  a  man  takes 
great  pains  to  explain  fully  to  his  class  the  history  of  his 
cases,  their  diagnosis  and  treatment,  and,  if  an  operation 
is  required,  the  reasons  for,  and  the  manner  of,  its  per- 
formance, with  an  account  of  the  subsequent  management 
of  the  patient.  In  all  these  details,  so  important  in  a 
clinical  point  of  view,  Sir  William  struck  me  as  being 
quite  at  fault.  How  he  ranked  as  a  didactic  lecturer  at 
King's  College  in  his  character  as  professor  I  do  not 
know  ;  but,  judging  from  what  I  saw  of  him  at  King's 
College  Hospital,  he  must  have  been  slow,  ponderous,  and 
uninteresting,  and  his  pupils  must  have  been  glad  to  get 
away  from  him  at  the  expiration  of  his  hour.  His  forte 
was  his  knife — not  the  explanation  of  the  structure  of 
a  cell  or  the  development  of  protoplasm.  As  a  writer 
I  should  ascribe  to  Fergusson  more  than  ordinary  merit ; 
his  style  is  clear,  and  his  English  has  been  excelled  by 
few  men  in  our  profession.  He  was  a  liberal  contributor 
to  the  periodical  press  ;  and  the  author  of  a  work  entitled 
Practical  Surgery,  which  has  passed  through  five  editions, 
and  which  will  always  be  consulted  as  reflecting  the  views 
and  experience  of  one  of  the  greatest  surgeons  of  any  age 
or  country.  In  1867  he  published  a  series  of  Lectures  on 
the  Progress  of  Anatomy  and  Surgery  during  the  Present 
Century,  delivered  a  short  time  previously  in  his  capacity 
as  Professor  of  Anatomy  and  Surgery  at  the  Royal  College 
of  Surgeons  of  England,  and  originally  published  in  the 
London  Lancet.  These  discourses  are  far  from  being 
what  they  profess  to  be.  One  looks  through  them  in  vain 
for  an  account  of  the  progress  of  anatomy  and  surgery  in 
the  nineteenth  century.  The  great  objective  point  of  the 
book  is  Sir  William  Fergusson — what  Sir  William  has 
done  in  regard  to  the  operations  for  harelip  and  cleft 
palate,  excision  of  certain  joints,  lithotrity,  and  lithotomy. 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  379 

All  this  is  well  enough  ;  for  it  is  certain  that  he  did 
more  to  advance  operative  surgery  in  England  than  all 
his  London  confreres  put  together,  and  he  had  therefore 
a  right  to  speak  of  himself;  but  he  had  no  right  to  de- 
lude the  Fellows  of  the  Royal  College  of  Surgeons  into 
the  belief  that,  in  doing  so,  he  was  giving  them  an  ac- 
count of  what  had  been  done  in  anatomy  and  surgery 
during  the  present  century  in  different  parts  of  the  world, 
or  even  in  his  own  country. 

Fergusson  was  by  birth  a  Scotchman,  having  been  born 
at  Preston  Pans,  East  Lothian,  in  1808.  He  studied 
medicine  under  Dr.  Knox,  the  celebrated  anatomist,  at 
a  time  when  the  latter  was  so  unpleasantly  mixed  up 
with  the  Burk  and  Hare  scandal,  which  eventually  drove 
him  into  partial  exile,  from  the  effects  of  which  he  never 
recovered.  His  pupil,  whose  greatness  was  early  fore- 
shadowed, firmly  convinced  of  his  master's  innocence,  con- 
tinued to  the  last  to  sustain  and  to  befriend  him.  After 
taking  his  degree  at  Edinburgh,  in  1828,  Fergusson  de- 
livered private  courses  of  lectures  on  Anatomy  and  Surgery, 
and  in  1836  was  appointed  assistant  surgeon  to  the  Royal 
Infirmary.  In  1840  he  went  to  London  as  Professor  of 
Surger}'  in  King's  College  and  as  Surgeon  to  King's  Col- 
lege Hospital.  Here  he  rose  rapidly  into  notice  as  a  dex- 
terous operator,  and  as  consulting  surgeon  to  the  higher 
classes  of  the  metropolis,  including  the  nobility.  In  due 
time  he  was  appointed  Sergeant  Surgeon  to  the  Queen.  In 
1865  he  was  made  a  baronet ;  and  in  1870  he  was  elected 
President  of  the  Royal  College  of  Surgeons  of  England. 
At  Birmingham  he  acted  as  chairman  of  the  Surgical 
Section,  and  presided,  in  the  absence  of  the  President, 
Mr.  Baker,  at  the  public  dinner.  The  following  year, 
when  the  Association  met  in  London,  he  occupied  the 
chair,  filling  it  with  his  accustomed  dignity.  This,  I  be- 
lieve, was  the  last  honor  he  received  from  a  profession 
which  had  so  long  appreciated  his  worth  as  a  surgeon,  but 


380    AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  SAMUEL  D.  GROSS,  M.D. 

with  which  he  never  was  popular  as  a  man.  His  pupils, 
however,  were  much  attached  to  him.  and  many  regarded 
him  as  the  Ajax  of  British  surgery. 

King's  College  Hospital  is  one  of  the  largest  and  best 
conducted  establishments  of  the  kind  in  the  British  me- 
tropolis, and  I  was  indebted  to  Sir  William  Fergusson  for 
the  opportunity  of  seeing  ever}'thing  of  interest  about  it. 
Like  most  similar  institutions  in  London,  it  is  devoid  of 
grounds,  being  situated  in  a  rather  thickly-settled  district, 
within  a  short  distance  of  the  Hunterian  Museum.  It  has 
a  capacity  of  three  hundred  beds,  is  thoroughly  ventilated, 
and  kept  in  perfect  order.  The  edifice  w^as  erected  at 
great  cost,  and  is  so  lofty  as  to  afford  an  excellent  view 
of  London  and  its  vicinity  from  the  upper  wards.  In 
the  hall,  on  the  first  floor,  opposite  the  door  of  entrance, 
stands  a  marble  statue  of  Thomas  Bentley  Todd,  one  of 
the  former  physicians  of  the  hospital,  and  the  author 
of  what  I  have  called  Toddism,  the  founder,  or  at  all 
events  one  of  the  chief  supporters,  of  the  doctrine  of  a 
change  of  type  in  disease,  and  of  the  feeding  system  in  its 
treatment — a  system  which,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  affirm, 
has  slain  millions  of  human  beings  by  the  indiscriminate 
manner  in  which  it  has  been  employed.  The  stairways 
are  the  finest  I  have  ever  seen.  The  lecture-room,  al- 
though small,  is  very  convenient,  the  seats  rising  abruptly 
one  above  another,  and  being  furnished  with  iron  backs, 
so  that  the  students  as  they  stand  up,  as  most  of  them  do, 
have  rests  for  their  arms  and  elbows.  During  one  of  my 
last  visits,  late  in  August,  the  audience  consisted  only  of 
thirty-five  persons,  mostly  physicians,  representatives  from 
America,  Germany,  Italy,  England,  Ireland,  and  the  Brit- 
ish anny  in  India — all  apparently  anxious  to  see  and  hear 
Fergusson. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

SAD  ANNIVERSARY — THE  EXAMINATION  OF  MEDICAL  STUDENTS — WASHINGTON 
— THE  SENATE  CHAMBER  —  BALTIMORE — N.  R.  SMITH  —  MARTIN  FARQUHAR 
TUPPER  —  OPERATIONS  —  W.  D.  LEWIS  —  WHAT  IS  FAME?  —  CHICAGO  —  THE 
MEETING  OF  THE  AMERICAN  MEDICAL  ASSOCIATION — FORTUNES  OF  MEDICAL 
MEN — BOSTON — UNIVERSITY  OF  CAMBRIDGE — PRESIDENT  HAYES — JACOB  BIGE- 
LOW — ^J.   B.   S.   JACKSON — CHARLES   FRANCIS   ADAMS. 

February  27th,  1877. — This  has  been  a  sad  day  with 
me  ;  for  it  is  the  anniversary  of  the  death  of  my  beloved 
wife,  whose  place  in  my  heart  can  never  be  filled.  She 
was  dear  to  me  beyond  measure,  and  I  miss  her  more 
and  more  as  time  advances.  Without  her,  the  house  is 
desolate.  The  year,  despite  my  grief,  has  passed  rapidly 
away,  thanks  to  my  incessant  occupations,  which  leave  me 
little  time  to  indulge  in  gloomy  thoughts,  and  which  I 
have  always  found  to  be  the  best  antidotes  for  grief.  My 
health  in  the  main  has  been  good,  and  I  have  much  to  be 
thankful  for.  My  children  are  all  happy ;  and  Dr.  S.  W. 
Gross  has  been  fortunate  enough  to  marry  one  of  the  best 
and  most  lovely  of  women.  I  now  live  solely  for  my  chil- 
dren. I  have  done  no  visiting  since  this  calamity  came 
upon  me,  and  I  have  promptly  declined  all  invitations  of 
a  social  character.  In  truth,  I  have  no  inclination  to  go 
anywhere. 

This  morning  I  completed  my  thirty-seventh  course  of 
lectures  on  Surgery,  delivered  to  five  hundred  and  ninety- 
eight  matriculated  students.  I  did  not  miss  one  lecture 
during  the  entire  session  ;  and  I  am  sure  that  I  never  ac- 
quitted myself  better  as  a  teacher.  The  class  was  uncom- 
monly attentive,  and  so  well  behaved  that  it  was  unneces- 

381 


382  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

sary  for  me  to  utter  one  word  of  rebuke  during  the  whole 
winter.  The  clinics  were  rich  in  instructive  cases ;  and  I 
performed  several  important  operations,  among  others  lith- 
otomy and  ligation  of  the  external  iliac  artery,  both  fol- 
lowed by  recovery. 

The  examination  of  the  candidates  begins  on  the  even- 
ing of  February  28th,  and  as  this  is  always  up-hill  business 
I  anticipate  much  labor  and  not  a  little  vexation.  Indeed, 
this  is  always  the  hardest  and  most  trjdng  work  of  the 
session.  I  am  informed  that  there  are  upwards  of  two 
hundred  of  these  young  men  to  be  tortured.  Few  of  them 
are  prepared  as  they  should  be ;  most  of  them  are  unripe 
from  a  want  of  sufficient  study  and  training ;  and  not  a  few 
of  them  are  destitute  of  brains.  It  is  lamentable  to  think 
how  imperfect  the  whole  system  of  medical  education  is 
in  this  country.  Our  students  are  driven  from  one  lecture 
to  another,  hour  after  hour,  like  so  many  cattle ;  and  the 
wonder  is  that,  when  they  come  up  for  their  final  examina- 
tion at  the  close  of  the  session,  they  have  any  knowledge 
at  all  of  a  fixed  or  definite  character. 

March  7th. — The  examinations  are  over  and  I  am  heartily 
rejoiced  at  it,  as  I  am  well  nigh  worn  out,  mentally  espe- 
cially. The  answers  hardly  afford  a  fair  average.  I  found 
most  of  the  candidates  lamentably  deficient  on  the  princi- 
ples of  surgery,  that  part  of  my  course  upon  which  I  always 
dwell  with  great  force  and  emphasis  during  the  first  six 
weeks  of  the  session.  The  fact  is  much  of  what  the  stu- 
dent is  taught  in  the  early  part  of  the  session  is  knocked 
out  of  him  before  the  close.  He  gets  a  daily  surfeit  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end ;  and  the  consequence  is  that  his 
knowledge  is  vague  and  imperfect  in  every  branch  of  his 
studies.  We  meet  this  evening  to  vote  upon  the  can- 
didates. 

March  8th. — Of  the  two  hundred  and  three  candidates 
voted  upon  last  evening  fourteen  are  suspended,  but  as 
they   are    all    entitled    to    reexamination   we    shall    have 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  383 

another  hard  day  of  it.  We  met  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  and  passed  all  but  five  !  If  we  had  been  just  to 
ourselves  we  should  have  rejected  every  one  of  them  as 
utterly  unfit  for  the  doctorate  ;  but  it  is  difiicult,  if  not 
impossible,  to  meet  with  seven  men  who  always  think 
alike  upon  any  one  subject ;  and  upon  this  subject  espe- 
cially I  have  always  found  the  greatest  divergence  of  views 
among  my  colleagues  in  all  the  schools  with  which  I  have 
ever  been  connected. 

March  loth. — The  Commencement  takes  place  at  twelve 
o'clock  to-day  at  the  Academy  of  Music.  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  not  to  attend,  feeling  convinced  that  I  would 
break  down,  under  the  influence  of  the  music  and  the 
brilliant  assembly,  by  being  too  forcibly  reminded  of  one 
who  seldom  failed  on  such  occasions  to  grace  the  audience. 
My  woimds  are  too  fresh  to  bear  the  shock.  I  have  prom- 
ised my  children  a  visit;  and  I  am  off  in  the  12.10  train 
for  Baltimore.  Joyous  hearts  will,  I  am  sure,  await  me  at 
the  depot,  followed  by  the  cordial  greetings  of  my  grand- 
children and  sons-in-law. 

To-day,  March  13th,  my  tvvo  daughters — IMrs.  Benjamin 
F.  and  Mrs.  Orv-ille  Horwitz — and  I  have  made  an  appoint- 
ment to  run  over  to  Washington  to  take  a  peep  at  the 
Senate  Chamber  and  to  lunch  with  our  good  old  friend, 
Mrs.  J.  Scott  Laughton,  late  Madame  Berghmans  nte 
Macalester.  We  find  nothing  in  the  Senate  of  special 
interest.  The  galleries  are  crowded  with  visitors,  and  the 
reporters  are  in  full  force ;  but  few  of  the  Senators  are  in 
their  seats,  although  it  is  now  past  twelve  o'clock.  A 
young  man  near  us  kindly  points  out  the  most  conspicu- 
ous men  upon  the  floor.  Presently  the  gavel  falls,  the 
Senators  rise  to  their  feet,  and  the  chaplain  oflers  a  short 
prayer.  Morton  is  easily  recognized  by  his  crutches  and 
by  his  bulldog-looking  face ;  he  is  tall  and  sombre,  and 
walks  with  difficulty.  He  evidently  feels  the  effects  of  the 
wild  oats  sown  in  his  youth.     Blaine  is  walking  about  the 


384  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

chamber  with  his  overcoat  hanging  partially  off  his 
shoulders,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Don't  you  see  me?  I  am 
Senator  Blaine,  lately  an  expectant  candidate  for  the 
Presidency,  and  now  engaged  in  punishing  the  man 
who  defeated  my  nomination  at  Cincinnati."  He  is  a 
tall  man,  with  a  dark  complexion,  and  at  the  distance  at 
which  I  am  seated  has  a  distinguished  bearing.  Simon 
Cameron  has  just  resigned  his  seat,  and  is  at  Harrisburg 
electioneering  for  his  son,  who  is  to  be  his  successor. 
Conkling  has  the  appearance  of  a  dignified  gentleman. 
He  has  light  hair,  eyes,  and  complexion,  is  busily  engaged 
in  writing,  and  now  and  then  looks  up  to  shake  hands 
with  a  colleague.  "That  stout,  tall,  sluggish-looking  man 
coming  towards  us,"  says  our  chaperone,  "is  Mr.  Davis,  of 
Illinois,  lately  an  Associate  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court. ' ' 
I  had  a  good  look  at  Hamlin,  Bayard,  and  a  number  of 
others  ;  but  as  I  surveyed  the  scene,  and  examined  the 
heads  and  faces  of  the  men  below  me,  I  said  to  myself, 
"There  are  as  many  great  men  outside  the  Senate  Chamber 
as  there  are  in  it."  After  the  Senate  had  been  in  session 
for  about  twenty  minutes  it  took  a  recess  for  one  hour,  and 
adjourned  immediately  after  reassembling,  as  there  was  no 
business  of  any  importance  to  be  transacted. 

From  the  Senate  Chamber  we  went  to  the  room  of  the 
Supreme  Court.  All  the  judges,  in  their  official  robes, 
were  in  their  seats.  One  of  them,  an  old  friend  of  mine, 
Associate  Justice  Strong,  was  engaged  in  reading  an 
"opinion,"  as  it  is  called — about  as  dry  a  business,  it 
seemed  to  me,  as  could  possibly  occupy  any  man's  time. 
A  sojourn  of  five  minutes  sufficed  to  satisfy  us  that  nothing 
was  to  be  gained  by  remaining  here,  and  so,  casting  one 
more  look  at  the  dignified  gentlemen  in  black  gowns,  we 
left  the  room. 

We  now  passed  into  the  rotunda,  one  of  the  finest  struc- 
tures of  the  kind  in  the  world,  desecrated  by  some  of 
the  worst  paintings  that  ever  disgraced  the  brush  of  an 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  385 

artist.  Why  these  pictures  are  permitted  to  retain  their 
place  in  so  conspicuous  a  part  of  this  great  building 
passes  all  comprehension.  The  Landing  of  Columbus  is 
the  merest  daub. 

The  luncheon  at  ]\Irs.  Laugh  ton's  was  delightful,  well 
served,  and  fortified  with  the  best  wines  and  the  best 
humor.  The  house,  although  not  large,  is  in  a  fashionable 
part  of  the  city,  and  is  beautifully  furnished,  the  walls 
being  adorned  with  the  elegant  pictures  belonging  to  IVIrs. 
Laughton's  late  father.  At  half  past  four  o'clock  we  were 
at  the  Washington  depot,  and  in  one  hour  more  were  in 
Baltimore,  the  iron  horse  having  run  a  distance  of  forty 
miles  within  that  short  time. 

I  called  this  morning,  IMarch  i6th,  upon  my  friend  and 
early  anatomical  preceptor,  Professor  N.  R.  Smith,  the 
eminent  Baltimore  surgeon.  As  I  had  been  led  to  fear 
from  various  reports,  I  found  him  greatly  changed  in  his 
appearance  from  the  effects  of  long-continued  suffering. 
He  was  pale  and  attenuated,  and,  what  shocked  me  greatly, 
his  mind  afforded  unmistakable  evidence  of  decadence. 
He  was  uncommonly  garrulous,  talked  incoherently,  and 
frequently  repeated  himself,  showing  clearly  that  his  mem- 
ory, once  so  acute  and  ready,  had  given  way.  Dr.  Smith 
is  now  nearly,  if  not  quite,  eighty  years  of  age ;  he  has 
led  a  very  active  life,  and  is  one  of  the  most  distin- 
guished surgeons  that  our  country  has  produced.  He  was 
for  more  than  forty  years  the  main  pillar  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  INIaryland,  and  for  nearly  the  same  length  of  time 
the  head  of  the  medical  profession  in  Baltimore,  by  whom, 
as  well  as  by  the  community  at  large,  he  has  been  much 
beloved.  The  title  of  "  Emperor"  bestowed  upon  him  by 
his  confreres  is  an  evidence  of  the  esteem  in  which  he  is 
held  by  them.  As  a  mechanical  surgeon  he  has  justly 
occupied  a  high  rank ;  as  a  surgical  pathologist  and  prac- 
titioner he  has  many  equals.  He  has  written  little  of 
value.  His  book  on  the  Surgical  Anatomy  of  the  Arteries 
1—49 


386  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

is  his  best  production.  He  has  devised  several  ingenious 
instruments,  one  in  particular  for  simplifying  lithotomy  ; 
and  his  anterior  splint  for  the  treatment  of  fractures  of 
the  lower  extremity  has  made  his  name  widely  known  at 
home  and  abroad.  Dr.  Smith  has  long  been  a  member  of 
the  Maryland  Club,  is  passionately  fond  of  a  game  of 
euchre,  and  has  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  the  best 
anecdotists  in  the  country.  In  person  he  is  nearly  six  feet 
in  height  and  gracefully  formed.  To  look  at  such  a  man, 
worn  out  by  disease  and  protracted  suffering,  a  mere  wreck 
of  what  he  once  was,  is  a  melancholy  sight.  After  listen- 
ing to  him  for  half  an  hour,  which  he  spent  almost  wholly 
in  giving  me  a  disconnected  account  of  his  case,  I  sorrow- 
fully took  my  leave,  feeling  convinced  that,  although  he 
might  last  a  few  months  longer,  I  should  never  again  see 
him  alive. 

Professor  Smith,  like  most  men  who  have  attained  to 
eminence,  began  life  poor.  His  father,  the  celebrated 
Nathan  Smith,  of  New  Haven,  a  man  of  mark  in  his 
day,  left  no  heritage  to  his  children  save  an  honored 
name.  When  in  1825  ^^  ^^^^  ^^o  had  already  been  a 
professor  at  Burlington,  Vermont,  came  to  Philadelphia  to 
enter  upon  the  duties  of  the  anatomical  chair  in  the  Jeffer- 
son Medical  College,  then  recently  created,  he  was  hardly 
thirty  years  of  age,  and  almost  wholly  without  means. 
During  the  two  5^ears  of  his  connection  with  the  college 
the  fees  from  the  students  were  very  slender,  and  as  he 
was  a  stranger  in  a  city  which  could  boast  of  many  of  the 
best  medical  men  in  the  country  he  had  little  or  no  prac- 
tice. It  was  therefore  not  surprising  that,  in  the  autumn 
of  1827,  h^  eagerly  accepted  the  chair  of  Anatomy  in  the 
University  of  Maryland,  with  the  assurance  that  upon  the 
resignation  of  Professor  Davidge,  then  old  and  infirm,  he 
should  succeed  to  the  chair  of  Surgery.  The  change  was 
one  of  great  advantage  to  him,  and  a  few  years  sufficed 
to  place  Dr.   Smith  in  independent  circumstances.     For 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  387 

more  than  a  third  of  a  century  he  enjoyed  an  immense 
practice,  and  his  earnings  must  have  been  great,  although, 
from  some  cause  or  other,  his  estate  is  now  not  large.  Dr. 
Smith  was  for  three  years  Professor  of  Medicine  in  Tran- 
sylvania University  under  a  guaranty,  if  I  mistake  not,  of 
three  thousand  dollars  a  session  and  the  privilege  of  re- 
taining his  residence  in  Baltimore. 

During  my  sojourn  in  Baltimore  I  was  the  guest  of  my 
son-in-law,  Mr.  B.  F.  Horwitz.  On  the  evening  of  IVIarch 
1 7th  he  was  kind  enough  to  invite  some  gentlemen  to  meet 
me  at  a  game  of  euchre,  of  which  he  knew  me  to  be  some- 
what fond,  although  I  have  never  been  a  good  player. 
Soon  after  we  sat  down  at  the  table  Mr.  Martin  Farquhar 
Tupper  was  announced,  and  every  one  of  course  extended 
to  him  a  cordial  greeting.  Other  persons  dropped  in  as  the 
evening  advanced,  and  the  conversation  was  for  a  while 
quite  animated.  Presently  Mr.  Tupper  got  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  stammering,  saying  that  he  had  had  an  impediment 
in  his  speech  from  early  childhood,  and  that  it  was  only 
by  the  most  steady  and  persistent  efforts  during  the  last 
forty  years,  assisted  by  constant  prayer,  that  he  succeeded 
in  curing  himself  of  it.  "I  have,"  said  he,  "in  my  Pro- 
verbial Philosophy,  described  this  distressing  affection;" 
and,  asking  for  a  copy  of  the  book,  he  read  aloud  with 
great  feeling  what  is  probably  the  most  eloquent  account 
of  it  to  be  found  in  the  language.  Upon  asking  him 
whether  he  had  entirely  broken  himself  of  this  habit,  his 
reply  was,  "I  still  stammer  occasionally,  but  only  in  a 
very  slight  degree,  hardly  noticeable  in  ordinary  conversa- 
tion." Most  of  the  Proverbial  Philosophy  was  written  be- 
fore he  was  twenty-three  years  old.  Mr.  Tupper  is  a  gen- 
tleman of  medium  height,  with  a  good  forehead  and  a 
benevolent-looking  face,  very  gray,  bald,  and  well  on,  I 
should  judge,  in  the  seventies.  The  fingers  of  his  right 
hand  are  crooked  from  the  effects  of  articular  rheumatism, 
and  in  writing  he  holds  his  pen  with  difhculty.     He  has 


388  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

now  been  in  the  country  for  some  months,  engaged  in  giv- 
ing readings,  mainly  from  his  own  writings,  chiefly  from 
his  Philosophy,  in  the  principal  cities  of  the  Union.  He 
is  not  a  good  reader,  even  of  his  own  works ;  his  voice 
is  sharp,  discordant,  and  not  well  modulated.  He  re- 
ceives much  attention ;  and  as  he  is  of  an  eminently  so- 
cial disposition,  he  seems  to  enjoy  life  like  a  philosopher, 
as  he  is.  What  particularly  gratified  me  was  the  compli- 
mentary manner  in  which  he  spoke  of  our  country,  and 
the  liberal  views  he  takes  of  our  institutions.  He  had  no 
hesitation  in  saying  that  the  Americans  speak  English 
better,  as  a  nation,  than  any  people  in  the  world.  This  is 
Mr.  Tupper's  second  visit  to  the  United  States,  the  first 
having  been  made  about  twenty  years  ago.  The  com- 
pany remained  till  a  late  hour,  and  the  evening  was  one 
of  the  most  pleasant  I  have  ever  spent  anywhere. 

On  April  14th,  1877,  at  my  college  clinic,  I  performed 
one  of  the  greatest  and  most  delicate  operations  of  my  life. 
The  case  was  one  of  lymphoma  of  the  left  side  of  the  neck, 
in  a  young  man  of  twenty-one  years,  a  resident  of  Ken- 
tucky. It  was  of  nearly  two  and  a  half  years'  duration, 
and  had  latterly  increased  very  much  in  bulk.  It  extended 
from  the  base  of  the  jaw  to  the  collar  bone  on  the  one  hand, 
and  from  near  the  middle  line  in  front  to  near  the  middle 
of  the  neck  behind  on  the  other,  and  was  composed  of  nu- 
merous nodules,  the  largest  of  which  was  about  the  size 
of  a  goose's  ^%^.  The  dissection,  which  occupied  nearly 
one  hour,  exposed  the  sheath  of  the  common  carotid  artery 
and  internal  jugular  vein,  with  its  accompanying  nerves, 
the  digastric  and  omohyoid  muscles,  the  hypoglossal  nerv^e, 
the  parotid  and  submaxillary  glands,  and  other  important 
structures.  The  sterno-cleido-mastoid  muscle  was  divided 
in  the  lower  part  of  its  course,  as  it  overlay  some  of  the 
enlarged  glands.  The  only  important  artery  that  was 
divided  was  the  facial ;  but  more  than  twenty  vessels  were 
tied,  as  blood  flowed  from  numerous  points,  although  prob- 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  389 

ably  not  more  than  six  ounces  were  lost  in  the  operation. 
The  youth  suffered  no  pain,  as  he  was  kept  constantly 
under  the  influence  of  chloroform  by  Dr.  Heame.  My 
other  assistants  were  Dr.  S.  W.  Gross,  Dr.  Barton,  Dr. 
Lopez,  and  Dr.  Johnston.  Dr.  Sayre,  of  New  York,  hap- 
pened to  be  present,  and  declared  it  was  the  most  delicate 
and  beautiful  operation  he  had  ever  witnessed.  Although 
I  am  now  nearly  seventy-two  years  of  age,  my  sight  is  ex- 
cellent and  my  hand  is  as  steady  as  ever. 

I  spent  the  20th  of  April  at  Florence  Heights  with  Mr. 
William  D.  Lewis,  an  old  banker,  and  one  of  our  most  re- 
spectable citizens.  Mr.  Henr}^  C.  Carey  accompanied  me. 
It  was  the  first  dinner  I  have  taken  away  from  my  own 
family  since  the  death  of  my  dear  wife,  nearly  fourteen 
months  ago.  It  was  pleasant,  as  well  as  edifying,  to  hear 
these  two  octogenarians,  lifelong  and  devoted  friends,  con- 
verse, telling  anecdotes,  and  relating  occurrences  which 
took  place  half  a  century  or  more  ago.  Among  the  anec- 
dotes told  by  Mr.  Lewis  was  one  which  he  gave  upon  the 
authority  of  Henry  Clay,  as  tending  to  show  that,  however 
pure  a  man's  character  may  be  in  private  life,  the  moment 
he  engages  in  politics  it  is  sure  to  be  assailed  and  vilified. 
A  very  intelligent  and  respectable  fanner  was  solicited  to 
become  a  candidate  for  the  office  of  sheriff.  It  was  sup- 
posed that  a  man  of  so  spotless  a  character  would  exercise 
great  influence  in  promoting  the  election  of  the  nominee 
for  Congress  in  his  district.  After  much  persuasion  he 
reluctantly  assented,  with  the  understanding,  however, 
that  he  was  on  no  account  to  be  called  upon  to  address 
his  fellow-citizens.  Things  went  on  pretty  well  for  some 
time,  when  some  of  his  friends  called  upon  him  and 
alarmed  him  by  telling  him  that  his  honesty  was  called  in 
question.  "My  honesty?  I  defy  any  one  to  prove  that. 
What  do  they  say?"  "They  assert  that  you  are  guilty 
of  hog-stealing ;  that  on  one  occasion  some  of  your  neigh- 
bor's hogs  had  gone  into  one  of  your  fields,  and  that  instead 


390  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

of  returning  them  you  kept  tliem.  Now  your  friends 
deem  it  proper  that  you  should  repel  this  charge.  Of  course 
we  know  it  to  be  false,  but  your  opponents  must  be  satis- 
fied that  it  is  false ;  otherwise  it  will  jeopard  your  elec- 
tion."  He  forthwith  took  the  stump,  but  only  got  deeper 
in  the  mire.  IVIeeting  Mr.  Clay  some  time  afterwards,  he 
said,  ' '  Well,  they  not  only  accused  me  of  hog-stealing, 
but,  by  G — ,  they  proved  it  on  me,  despite  all  I  could  say 
to  the  contrar\\"  The  moral  of  all  this  is  that,  if  a 
man  desires  to  retain  his  self-respect,  he  had  better  be 
careful  how  he  meddles  with  politics. 

Mr.  Lewis  has  a  pleasant  country  residence  on  the  banks 
of  the  Delaware,  where  he  spends  most  of  his  time  in  read- 
ing and  meditation.  Early  in  life  he  passed  several  years 
at  St.  Petersburg,  studying  the  Russian  language,  and 
translating  a  small  volume  of  Russian  poetry.  He  is  a 
vigorous  talker,  and  enjoys  a  hearty  joke  or  good  anecdote 
as  much  as  ever. 

At  our  annual  Faculty  meeting  on  May  2d,  while  at 
supper,  the  conversation  turned  upon  various  subjects ; 
among  others  the  singular  manner  in  which  a  man  some- 
times obtains  practice.  Dr.  Richard  J.  Levis,  it  was 
stated,  had  just  gone  to  California  to  perform  an  opera- 
tion for  the  relief  of  carcinoma  of  the  rectum,  his  patient 
having  heard  that  he  had  recently  operated  in  two 
similar  cases,  one  of  which,  I  know,  died  within  a  few 
days  after.  Dr.  Da  Costa  said  the  circumstance  reminded 
him  of  one  that  had  occurred  in  his  own  practice.  A 
gentleman  of  London,  a  man  of  wealth,  the  subject  of  a 
thoracic  fistule  consequent  upon  an  attack  of  chronic 
pleurisy,  was  informed  by  an  Italian  organ-grinder  who 
was  one  day  playing  before  his  window  that  he  had, 
some  years  before,  suffered  in  Philadelphia  from  a  sim- 
ilar disease,  of  which  he  had  been  cured  by  Dr.  Da  Costa. 
He  forthwith  embarked  for  the  United  States,  and  in  due 
time  found  himself  in  that  professor's  office.     He  had  been 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.D.  391 

under  the  care  of  different  physicians  in  London  without 
material  benefit,  and  was  determined  to  see  what  Amer- 
ican skill  might  have  in  store  for  him. 

At  my  clinic  on  May  5th  I  removed  a  polyp  from  an 
elderly  man's  nose,  operated  upon  a  case  of  double  club- 
foot, and  cut  a  child  three  years  of  age  for  stone  in  the 
bladder — all  in  less  than  one  hour. 

On  May  12th,  at  the  college  clinic,  I  cut  a  child  eighteen 
months  old  for  stone  in  the  bladder,  and  lost  him  at  the 
end  of  eighteen  hours  from  the  joint  effects  of  shock,  loss 
of  blood,  and  urinary  infiltration.  The  little  fellow  was 
much  emaciated  from  severe  and  protracted  suffering,  and 
was  therefore  not  in  good  condition  for  an  operation. 
I  made  my  incisions,  as  usual,  with  great  care ;  but,  de- 
spite this,  a  large  vessel,  probably  the  artery  of  the  bulb, 
was  divided,  and  the  flow  of  blood  could  not  be  stopped 
without  plugging  the  wound  with  lint  wet  with  Monsel's 
salt — a  catheter  having  previously  been  inserted  into  the 
bladder.  This  had  the  desired  effect,  and  there  was  no  re- 
currence of  hemorrhage.  The  child  was  pale  and  feeble, 
but  rallied  some  time  afterwards.  During  the  night  he 
became  worse,  and  gradually  sank  from  sheer  exhaus- 
tion. Some  urine  had  passed  around  the  plug  in  the 
wound  into  the  scrotum  and  perineum,  thus  adding  to  the 
trouble.  The  stone  was  seven-eighths  of  an  inch  in  its 
long  diameter,  and  one  and  a  half  inch  in  its  shortest  cir- 
cumference— a  large  mass  for  so  young  a  child. 

Altogether  I  have  now  performed  this  operation  sixty- 
nine  times  upon  young  children,  with  two  deaths,  in- 
cluding the  present  one,  the  first  having  been  caused  by 
pyaemia  at  the  end  of  the  twenty-eighth  day.  This  record, 
until  the  last  mishap,  was,  as  far  as  I  know,  without  a 
parallel.  Including  the  failure,  it  is  still  a  very  uncom- 
mon record,  and  one  with  which  any  lithotomist  might 
well  be  satisfied. 

What  is  fame?     My  son,  Dr.  S.  W.  Gross,  one  of  the 


392  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

party  on  board  the  revenue  cutter  wliicli  took  Mrs.  Grant 
and  her  friends  down  to  New  Castle  on  May  i6th  to  meet 
the  steamer  Indiana,  which  was  to  take  her  and  the  Gen- 
eral to  Europe,  was  gravely  asked  by  ex-Senator  Simon 
Cameron  if  I  was  still  alive !  My  son  assured  the  learned 
ex-senator  that  his  father  was  not  only  not  dead,  but  that 
he  was  able  to  perform  as  good  a  day's  work  as  ever. 
This  circumstance  revives  a  curious  recollection  respecting 
Dr.  Thomas  D.  Miitter  and  Dr.  John  K.  Mitchell,  both 
eminent  men  in  their  day.  Miitter  had  been  dead  for 
five  or  six  years,  when  one  day  Professor  Dunglison,  then 
dean  of  our  Faculty,  received  a  letter  from  a  physician  in 
New  Hampshire,  making  inquiries  concerning  his  old 
teacher's  whereabouts.  Mitchell  had  been  dead  nearly 
equally  long  when  a  sick  man  came  to  the  college  clinic 
bearing  a  letter  addressed  to  the  deceased  professor,  dated 
Florence  Heights,  New  Jersey,  a  few  miles  above  Phila- 
delphia, on  the  banks  of  the  Delaware ! 

The  weather  on  May  20th  and  during  the  preceding  three 
days  has  been  extremely  hot,  the  thermometer,  in  many 
places  in  the  shade,  ranging  from  93°  to  97°  Fahrenheit, 
an  occurrence  without  a  parallel  at  this  season  within  the 
last  fifty-three  years.  The  effect  both  upon  man  and  beast 
has  been  marked.  The  foliage  of  most  of  our  forest  trees 
is  fully  expanded,  and  the  wheat  and  grass  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Philadelphia  look  uncommonly  well.  Wild 
flowers  exist  in  abundance. 

June  3d. — At  a  quarter  of  twelve  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing I  leave  for  Chicago,  to  attend  the  twenty-eighth  meet- 
ing of  the  American  Medical  Association,  which  will  take 
place  in  that  city  on  June  5tli.  The  day  is  beautiful,  but 
the  track  is  dusty  and  the  air  hot.  The  road  passes 
through  a  delightful  region  of  country,  embracing  Lan- 
caster County,  one  of  the  most  fertile  spots  in  the  world, 
distinguished  for  its  excellent  farms  and  fields,  which  are 
covered  with  rich  grain  and  grass,  while  the  fences  and 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  393 

barns  are  in  the  best  possible  order.  Everything  seems  to 
be  in  its  appropriate  place.  The  scenery  as  far  as  Pitts- 
burgh and  some  distance  beyond  is  interesting,  and  often 
grand  and  imposing,  especially  at  the  Horseshoe  beyond 
Altoona,  on  the  Allegheny  Mountains.  In  Eastern  Ohio 
the  country  is  more  level,  and  on  reaching  Illinois  it  is  flat 
and  smooth,  and  so  continues  along  the  entire  route  to 
Chicago,  exhibiting  a  prairie  in  a  state  of  high  cultivation. 
Farms  on  an  extensive  scale  are  seen  as  far  as  the  eye  can 
reach  upon  each  side  of  the  road,  which  runs  in  a  bee-line 
over  a  smooth,  level  track,  with  very  little  motion  of  the 
car.  The  fields  are  luxuriant,  and  the  soil  is  loose  and 
fertile,  admitting  of  easy  cultivation.  The  land  is  well 
watered.  What  strikes  one  as  peculiar  is  the  absence  of 
stock,  or  the  paucity  of  horses,  sheep,  cattle,  and  swine. 
The  houses  are  small  and  of  frame,  and  there  are  few  barns 
to  be  seen, 

I  reached  Chicago  at  twenty  minutes  past  seven  o'clock 
on  the  evening  of  June  4th,  and  took  lodgings  at  the  Pal- 
mer House,  a  hotel  of  immense  size,  erected  at  a  cost  of 
more  than  three  million  dollars.  It  is  beyond  question 
one  of  the  finest  cities  in  the  world.  Its  stores  are  speci- 
mens of  architectural  beauty,  and  are  five,  six,  and  seven 
stories  high.  The  streets  are  from  eighty  to  one  hundred 
feet  wide.  Many  of  the  private  houses  are  elegant,  and 
surrounded  by  spacious  grounds  ornamented  with  flowers 
and  shrubbery.  I  am  told  that  ninety  million  bushels  of . 
grain  were  shipped  from  this  city  last  year,  and  that  six- 
teen hundred  thousand  hogs  were  slaughtered.  Aladdin 
has  evidently  been  here  with  his  lamp.  The  population 
exceeds  four  hundred  thousand.  Less  than  fifty  years  ago 
the  site  of  the  city  was  a  wild  prairie  at  the  foot  of  a  lake. 

The   meeting  was   organized  at  eleven   o'clock  in  the 

morning  on  the  5th  of  June,   Dr.   Bowditch,   of  Boston, 

President,    in   the   chair.       Six    hundred   and   eighty-five 

names   were  registered.      The  meeting  was   harmonious, 

1—50 


394  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

but  no  important  papers  were  read.  In  the  surgical  sec- 
tion, presided  over  by  Professor  Frank  H,  Hamilton,  of 
New  York,  I  read  a  brief  article  on  the  proximate  cause  of 
pain,  which  elicited  a  few  remarks  from  Dr.  Hodgen,  of  St. 
Louis,  who  was  evidently  unprepared  to  discuss  the  sub- 
ject. On  motion  to  refer  it  to  the  Committee  on  Publica- 
tion, one  delegate  cried  out  lustily,  "No."  I  could  not 
learn  who  he  was.  Five  or  six  female  physicians  were 
admitted  as  members.  One  of  them,  near  the  close  of  the 
session,  went  to  the  President,  and  expressed  a  desire  to 
thank  the  Association  for  its  liberality  in  admitting  them 
to  the  meeting  ;  but  he  wisely  withheld  his  consent. 

Although  the  American  Medical  Association  has  done 
much  good,  it  has  by  no  means  accomplished  even  a 
moiety  of  what  it  had  promised  to  do,  or  what  had  been 
expected  of  it.  In  regard  to  its  educational  reforms,  it 
has  been  an  utter  failure,  and  I  think  the  same  may  be 
said  in  regard  to  its  scientific  labors.  While  the  Trans- 
actions contains  some  excellent  papers  which  would  be 
creditable  to  a  similar  body  of  men  anywhere,  it  con- 
tains many  others  which  are  entirely  destitute  of  merit, 
and  are  disreputable  as  literary  productions.  The  Prize 
Essays  are,  for  the  most  part,  of  a  mediocre  character.  A 
few  possess  genuine  value.  The  social  relations  of  the 
Association  have  been  quite  a  success,  and  these  are  one 
of  its  most  valuable  features.  The  annual  meetings  bring 
into  contact  men  from  all  sections  of  the  United  States, 
who  are  thus  afforded  an  opportunity  of  renewing  old  ac- 
quaintanceship and  of  making  new  friends.  An  attempt 
was  recently  made  to  unite  the  American  Medical  Asso- 
ciation with  the  Canada  Medical  Association,  but  it  failed, 
because,  as  each  body  is  migratory,  the  attendance  would 
often  be  very  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  for  both  parties. 
The  subject  has  been  finally  disposed  of  by  an  agree- 
ment to  send  delegates,  as  heretofore,  each  to  the  other. 
The   annual   addresses  in  medicine,   surgery,   midwifery, 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  395 

and  hygiene  are  worse  than  useless,  and  are  not  what  such 
an  Association  should  listen  to,  covering,  as  they  do,  merely 
the  advances  made  in  these  branches  during  the  preceding 
year — a  task  which  any  youth  of  tolerable  respectability  in 
the  profession  could  execute  as  well  as  any  veteran.  Eight 
or  nine  years  ago,  when  I  suggested  the  reading  of  these 
addresses,  it  never  occurred  to  me  that  they  would  be 
limited  to  such  humble  work  ;  and  at  the  recent  meeting 
at  Chicago  the  Committee  on  Nominations,  at  my  instance, 
brought  the  matter  prominently  before  the  Association,  and 
proposed  an  amendment  to  the  by-laws  by  which,  instead 
of  making  it  incumbent  upon  the  chairmen  of  the  sections 
to  deliver  these  addresses,  the  task  shall  be  confided  to 
separate  officers  with  a  choice  of  subjects ;  so  that,  should 
this  suggestion  be  carried  into  effect,  we  may  hereafter 
reasonably  expect  a  more  reputable  literary  diet  list.  An- 
other defect  which  should  be  promptly  remedied,  and 
concerning  which  I  expressed  my  mind  freely  more  than 
twenty  years  ago,  is  the  lack  of  an  anniversary  dinner  on 
the  evening  of  the  third  day  of  the  meeting.  The  admis- 
sion fee  to  this  should  be  five  dollars,  and  the  attendance 
should  of  course  be  optional.  Much  benefit  would  result 
from  such  an  arrangement  by  bringing  the  members  into 
more  intimate  social  relations,  to  be  secured  in  no  other 
way. 

I  was  made  Chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Nomina- 
tions. There  were  four  candidates  for  the  office  of  Presi- 
dent at  this  meeting.  Dr.  T.  G.  Richardson  received,  on 
the  first  ballot,  fifteen  votes,  or  a  majority  of  one  of  all 
the  votes  cast.  He  was  nominated  by  Dr.  Marsey,  of 
Massachusetts.  The  other  candidates  were  By  ford,  of 
Chicago ;  Parv'in,  of  Indianapolis ;  and  White,  of  Buffalo 
— three  g}'naccologists,  I  interested  myself  in  the  elec- 
tion of  Richardson.  I  was  anxious  to  show  our  Southern 
brethren,  inasmuch  as  he  was  a  representative  man,  and 
lived   in   a   State  which,    after   long-continued   suffering, 


396  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

had  just  been  rehabilitated,  that  we  were  desirous  of  see- 
ing them  reunited  with  us  in  the  Association.  I  felt  that, 
although  I  might  incur  some  odium  on  account  of  my 
efforts,  the  effect  must  be  good — -just  as  I  felt  in  1868,  when 
I  used  my  best  endeavors  to  promote  the  election  to  the 
same  position  of  Dr.  Baldwin,  of  Montgomery,  Alabama, 
an  eminent  physician,  popular  in  the  South,  and  therefore 
well  fitted  to  conciliate  Southern  feeling  and  allay  South- 
em  prejudice.  That  his  election  had  this  effect  has  been 
generally  admitted.  In  regard  to  Dr.  Richardson,  it  is 
not  to  be  forgotten  that  the  Association,  mainly  at  his 
instance  and  amid  great  opposition,  met  at  New  Orleans 
in  1873,  ^^^  ^^^t  ^^  spent  much  time  and  money  in  enter- 
taining its  members,  while  all  the  important  offices  were 
conferred  upon  non-residents,  regardless  of  the  hospitalities 
just  received. 

There  were  three  entertainments  given  by  prominent 
citizens  of  Chicago  every  evening ;  but,  as  I  had  not  yet 
gone  into  society  or  accepted  any  hospitalities  since  the 
death  of  my  dear  wife,  I  did  not  attend  any  of  them.  It 
was  my  good  fortune  at  the  meeting  to  greet  many  of  my 
private  pupils,  some  of  whom  have  justly  attained  distinc- 
tion ;  and  there  were  few,  if  any,  of  the  members  who 
were  not  personally  introduced  to  me.  It  was  quite 
amusing,  sometimes  annoying,  to  hear  them  ask  how  old 
I  was  and  tell  me  how  well  I  bore  my  age. 

Several  weeks  ago  I  received  from  Dr.  Alfred  Hosmer, 
of  Watertown,  anniversary  chairman,  a  letter  cordially  in- 
viting me  to  be  present  at  the  annual  dinner  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts Medical  Society  at  Music  Hall,  Boston,  to  be 
given  June  13th,  at  one  o'clock.  This  was  backed  by 
a  letter  from  that  excellent  and  clever  physician,  Dr. 
D.  Humphreys  Storer,  and  by  a  personal  entreaty  of  Dr. 
Bowditch,  President  of  the  American  Medical  Association, 
whom  I  met  at  Chicago  last  week.  I  regret  that  I  am  un- 
able to  go,  as  I  am  an  honorary  member  of  the  society.     It 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,    M.D. 


397 


would  afford  me  mucli  pleasure  to  meet  my  Massachusetts 
friends,  for  many  of  whom  I  entertain  the  highest  respect 
as  practitioners  of  medicine  and  surgery,  pathologists, 
writers,  scholars,  and  gentlemen.  I  see  by  the  newspapers 
of  June  i6th  that  eight  hundred  and  fifty  persons  sat  down 
at  table,  honored  by  the  presence  of  Governor  Rice,  Presi- 
dent Eliot  of  Harvard  University,  Professor  Austin  Flint, 
Sr.,  and  Professor  John  C.  Dalton  of  New  York,  and  of 
many  of  the  oldest  and  most  prominent  members  of  the 
Massachusetts  Medical  Society. 

It  is  the  lot  of  most  medical  men  to  die  poor.  Now  and 
then  there  is  of  course  an  exception.  Sir  William  Fer- 
gusson,  who  died  on  the  loth  of  last  February,  left  an 
estate  valued  at  thirty  thousand  pounds.  One  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  of  our  money  is  a  small  sum 
when  we  consider  his  large  practice — much  of  it  among 
the  English  and  Scotch  nobility — and  the  immense  fees 
he  must  have  received  for  many  years,  to  say  nothing 
of  his  income  as  a  teacher  of  surgery  in  King's  College. 
Liston,  who  enjoyed  a  world-wide  reputation  as  a  surgeon, 
and  who  was  the  early  contemporary'  of  Fergusson  at 
Edinburgh,  died  worth  scarcely  a  few  thousand  pounds. 
On  the  other  hand,  William  Coulson,  who  died  a  short 
time  ago  in  London,  where  he  had  practised  all  his  life, 
principally  as  a  lithotomist,  left  an  estate  of  upwards  of 
one  million  dollars.  How  he  accumulated  this  immense 
fortune,  the  bulk  of  which  he  bequeathed  to  a  nephew, 
it  is  difficult  to  conceive.  As  a  man  of  ability  and 
an  operative  surgeon  he  was  far  inferior  to  Fergusson  or 
Liston.  During  my  visit  to  London  in  1868  I  called  upon 
Mr.  Coulson,  and  found  him  in  obscure  apartments  in 
what  is  known  as  the  Jewry,  near  St.  Paul's.  There,  he 
informed  me,  he  had  resided  for  many  years,  actively 
engaged  in  practice,  largely,  if  not  chiefly,  in  urinary 
diseases.  Upon  these  disorders,  early  in  life,  he  had 
published  a  treatise,  which,  passing  through  a  number  of 


398  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

editions,  had  doubtless  been  of  great  semce  in  securing 
for  him  business  as  a  specialist. 

I  reached  Boston  at  seven  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  June 
27th,  and  at  eleven  o'clock  went  with  Mr.  John  Revere,  my 
son's  father-in-law,  to  attend  the  Commencement  of  Har- 
vard University.  The  interest  of  the  occasion  was  en- 
hanced by  the  presence  of  President  Hayes  and  several 
of  the  members  of  his  Cabinet,  prominent  among  whom 
was  General  Devens,  the  Attorney-General,  a  native  of 
IMassachusetts  and  a  gentleman  of  much  popularity  with 
the  citizens  of  Boston.  Sanders  Theatre,  where  the  ex- 
ercises took  place,  was  filled  to  overflowing  with  a  fash- 
ionable and  intelligent  audience.  The  graduating  class,  it 
was  said,  acquitted  itself  with  unusual  credit.  The  degree 
of  D.  C.  L.  was  conferred  upon  President  Hayes,  and  that 
of  LL.  D.  upon  Mr.  Devens.  The  alumni  dinner  came 
off  at  three  o'clock  in  the  large  banqueting  room  in 
Memorial  Hall,  which  on  this  occasion  seated  nearly 
twelve  hundred  guests,  and  which  vividly  reminded  me 
of  the  banqueting  hall  at  Christ  Church,  Oxford.  The 
walls  are  adorned  with  the  portraits  and  busts  of  the 
great  men  whose  services  have  rendered  Harvard  the  first 
university  of  the  land.  The  founder,  John  Harvey,  who 
is  represented  as  a  tall,  slender  man,  arra^-ed  in  a  morn- 
ing gown  and  slippers,  appropriately  occupies  the  centre. 
General  Devens,  President  of  the  Alumni,  presided,  and 
made  a  capital  opening  speech,  full  of  feeling  and  of  good 
sense.  Other  addresses  followed,  and  caused  much  enthu- 
siasm. The  remarks  of  President  Hayes  were  brief,  and 
were  simply  expressive  of  his  appreciation  of  the  honors 
bestowed  upon  him  by  the  University  and  of  the  pleasure 
he  had  experienced  at  the  warmth  of  his  reception  since 
his  arrival  in  Massachusetts.  Among  the  more  prominent 
speakers  were  Governor  Rice  of  Massachusetts,  George 
Bancroft,  the  historian,  Postmaster-General  Key,  President 
Eliot  of  Har\-ard  University,  Carl  Schurz,  and  Professor 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  399 

James  Russell  Lowell,  recently  appointed  IMinister  to 
Spain.  The  list  of  graduates  in  the  different  departments 
was  a  lengthy  one,  that  in  medicine  embracing  sixty- 
two  names,  of  whom  nearly  one-half  were  bachelors  or 
masters  of  arts — a  circumstance  which  speaks  well  for  this 
institution.  Since  the  appointment  of  Dr.  Eliot  as  Pres- 
ident, Harvard  has  signalized  itself  by  the  adoption  of 
stringent  regulations  in  regard  to  the  admission  of  pupils ; 
and  the  result  is  manifested  in  a  much  higher  standard 
of  education  in  all  the  branches  taught  in  the  several 
schools.  The  example  thus  set  cannot  fail  to  exert  a  salu- 
tary influence  upon  the  colleges  of  our  country. 

The  grounds  of  Harvard  University,  with  its  dozen  or 
more  large  edifices,  remind  one  forcibly  of  those  at  Oxford 
and  Cambridge  in  England.  One's  only  regret  is  that 
they  are  not  more  spacious.  Many  of  the  buildings  are  old, 
and  most  of  them  are  destitute  of  architectural  taste.  Me- 
morial Hall  is  a  splendid  edifice,  erected  at  great  cost,  and 
worthy  of  the  place.  It  is  the  Sheldonian  Theatre  of  Har- 
vard, with  the  addition  of  the  banqueting  hall  of  Christ 
Church,  Oxford.  In  the  large  vestibule  are  numerous 
marble  tablets,  inscribed  with  the  names  of  the  sons  of 
Harvard  who  fell  in  defence  of  their  countrv'  during  the 
late  war.  The  magnificent  elms  in  the  college  grounds 
form  a  striking  feature  in  the  landscape. 

On  June  28th  I  attended,  at  Sanders  Theatre,  the  exer- 
cises of  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society,  the  principal  of 
which  consisted  of  an  oration  by  Wx.  Thomas  F.  Bayard, 
of  Delaware,  on  the  Relations  of  the  American  Citizen  to 
his  Government.  This  was  followed  by  a  poem  on  Haw- 
thorne, by  Edmund  C.  Stedman,  of  New  York.  Judging 
from  the  frequent  applause  bestowed  upon  Mr.  Bayard's 
address,  I  am  disposed  to  think  that  it  was  meritorious ; 
and  this,  I  believe,  was  the  general  opinion  of  the  audience 
who,  for  nearly  two  hours,  listened  to  it.  It  was  certainly 
a  scholarly  production,  and  it  had  the  merit  of  being  well 


400 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 


delivered.  Through  the  politeness  of  my  good  friend,  Dr. 
Henry  H.  Bowditch,  of  Boston,  I  had  the  honor  of  dining 
with  the  Society,  and  was  again  brought  into  contact  with 
a  number  of  distinguished  men.  The  presiding  officer  was 
Edward  Everett  Hale,  a  tall  man,  with  a  peculiar  voice 
and  not  very  prepossessing  manners,  although  he  was  face- 
tious and  entertaining.  The  principal  speakers  were  Pres- 
ident Eliot,  Bayard,  Stedman,  and  Eowell.  The  occasion 
was  a  very  pleasant  one ;  but  I  was  obliged  to  leave  before 
the  dinner  was  over,  as  it  was  necessary  that  I  should 
reach  the  half  past  five  o'clock  train  for  Canton,  the  resi- 
dence of  my  friend,  Mr.  Revere — a  grandson  of  the  fa- 
mous Paul  Revere — with  whose  charming  family  I  spent 
my  nights  during  my  stay  in  Massachusetts. 

I  had  not  seen  Boston  since  1859,  a  period  of  eighteen 
years,  during  which  many  changes  had  of  course  taken 
place.  Boston  Common  has  a  wide  reputation.  Its  old, 
umbrageous  elms  impart  to  it  a  classical  appearance,  and 
afford  on  a  hot  day  protection  from  the  sun  alike  to  the 
poorest  citizen  and  to  the  millionaire.  The  public  garden, 
close  by,  is  a  beautiful  specimen  of  landscape  horticulture, 
and  is  at  this  moment  arrayed  in  all  its  glory,  the  June 
roses  being  in  full  bloom.  The  newer  portions  of  the  city, 
built  upon  land  reclaimed  from  marshes  once  the  bed  of 
the  ocean,  are  distinguished  for  their  fine  avenues  and  their 
elegant  private  dwellings,  Ever^^where  cleanliness  is  ap- 
parent, and,  what  is  remarkable,  I  saw  no  evidence  of  pov- 
erty in  my  extensive  rides  through  the  city.  Neatness  is  a 
predominating  feature  of  Boston. 

With  President  Hayes  I  was  favorably  impressed.  He 
has  a  fine  head,  with  an  agreeable,  expressive  face,  and  a 
modest  demeanor  worthy  of  a  man  in  his  high  position. 
Although  I  did  not  at  all  approve  of  the  manner  in  which 
he  got  into  office,  I  accepted  the  situation  the  more  will- 
ingly because  I  had  fonned  a  high  opinion  of  his  honesty, 
and  felt  that  he  would  do  all  he  could  to  restore  peace  and 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  401 

happiness  to  the  Southern  States  at  an  early  day  after  his 
inauguration. 

My  visit  to  Boston  would  have  been  incomplete  without 
seeing  Dr.  Jacob  Bigelow — clarum  et  veiierabile  nomen — 
now  in  the  ninet^'-second  year  of  his  age.  For  two  years 
he  has  been  blind  and  has  not  left  his  bed ;  and  when  I 
seized  his  hand,  he  said,  "I  cannot  see  you;  but  I  can 
press  your  hand  and  bid  you  a  cordial  welcome."  As  he 
lay  on  his  pillow  his  countenance,  calm  and  serene,  with  a 
most  benignant  expression,  denotive  of  conscious  repose 
and  of  'resignation  to  the  divine  will,  reminded  me  of 
what  I  had  read  of  some  Roman  philosopher.  I  never 
looked  upon  a  countenance  in  which  dignity  and  gentle- 
ness were  so  beautifully  blended.  His  mind  was  clear, 
and  his  memor}^  seemingly  unclouded.  He  made  many 
inquiries  about  the  medical  schools  and  medical  men  of 
Philadelphia,  and  expressed  much  satisfaction  when  I  told 
him  that  Philadelphia  still  maintained  her  supremacy  as 
the  emporium  of  medical  science  on  this  continent.  It 
was  to  me  a  source  of  no  ordinary'-  gratification  to  learn 
that  he  was  free  from  bodily  suffering ;  and  that  he  enjoyed 
sound  sleep  and  an  excellent  appetite  with  a  good,  whole- 
some digestion — blessings  not  usually  associated  in  one  so 
far  advanced  in  life.  During  the  twenty  minutes  spent  at 
the  bedside  of  this  remarkable  man — a  man  to  whom  our 
profession  is  so  much  indebted  for  many  happy  sugges- 
tions— it  was  pleasant  to  see  his  venerable  wife,  a  small, 
delicate-looking  lady,  only  five  years  younger  than  him- 
self, sitting  near  by,  listening  with  profound  respect  and 
attention  to  the  words  of  kindness  and  of  wisdom  as  they 
flowed  from  his  lips. 

In  company  with  my  friend,  Dr.  Bowditch,  I  called 
upon  Dr.  Edward  Hammond  Clarke,  who  for  the  last  two 
years  or  more  has  been  a  great  sufferer  from  a  malignant 
disease,  which  has  made  serious  inroads  upon  his  constitu- 
tion. He  received  us  in  his  chamber,  reclining  upon  a 
I— 51 


402  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  i 

lounge,  from  which  he  seldom  rises,  as  he  is  unable  to  sit 
up.  I  became  acquainted  with  Dr.  Clarke  about  eight  or 
nine  years  ago,  when  he  brought  me  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion from  a  common  friend  in  Boston,  and  took  breakfast 
with  me  the  following  morning.  A  more  genial  gen- 
tleman I  have  rarely  met — highly  cultured,  refined,  and 
intelligent  I  said  to  him,  ' '  You  must  have  composed 
under  great  difficulty,  if  not  severe  suffering,  your  paper, 
in  the  American  Journal  of  the  Medical  Sciences,  on  the 
Progress  of  Medicine  in  America  during  the  last  Century?" 
"  I  wrote  the  whole  of  it,"  was  his  reply,  "upon  this  couch 
with  the  aid  of  my  wife  as  an  amanuensis.  When  I  found 
my  pain  coming  on  I  called  for  pen  and  paper  and  began 
to  dictate.  In  about  an  hour,  as  my  mind  became  absorbed 
in  my  subject,  the  pain  gradually  subsided,  and  in  this 
way  I  usually  worked  several  hours  every  day  until  the 
task  was  completed.  Thus,  you  perceive,"  he  added, 
' '  not  only  did  writing  serve  to  amuse  me,  but  it  acted  as 
an  anodyne."  What  renders  the  situation  of  Dr.  Clarke 
particularly  sad  is  the  loss,  a  few  months  ago,  of  his  wife, 
an  excellent  woman,  much  beloved.  He  has  an  only  child, 
a  daughter,  who  does  all  she  can  to  comfort  him  in  his 
affliction.  He  has  written  many  admirable  papers,  chiefly 
medical ;  and  is  the  author  of  a  clever  little  book  on  Sex 
in  Education,  which  has  attracted  much  attention.  Sick 
as  he  is,  he  is  now  engaged  in  writing  a  work — probably 
destined  to  be  a  posthumous  publication — on  Psychology, 
in  which  he  will  trench  largely  on  spiritualism.  The 
loss  of  such  a  man,  possessed  of  so  many  excellent  quali- 
ties of  head  and  heart,  will  be  a  serious  one  to  our  pro- 
fession. 

Of  Dr.  Bowditch  this  is  not  the  time  or  place  fully  to 
speak.  He  is  still  an  active  man,  although  like  my- 
self advanced  in  years.  He  is  a  son  of  Nathaniel  Bow- 
ditch,  the  illustrious  translator  of  La  Place's  M^canique 
Celeste,  and  a  physician  of  rare  gifts,  a  pupil  of  the  re- 


SAMUEL  D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  403 

nowned  Louis  of  Paris,  and  an  accomplished  diagnostician 
and  practitioner.  He  is  skilled  in  the  treatment  of 
thoracic  diseases,  of  which  he  has  for  many  years  made  a 
specialty.  His  writings  on  Empyema  have  made  his  name 
well  known  both  at  home  and  abroad.  Another  excel- 
lent professional  brother  whom  it  was  my  good  fortune  to 
meet  during  this  visit  is  Dr.  J.  B.  S.  Jackson,  now  old,  but 
still  fresh  and  vigorous,  one  of  the  best  men  in  the  world, 
enjoying  a  wide  and  enviable  reputation  as  a  pathological 
anatomist,  to  the  study  of  which  he  has  devoted  a  life- 
time. For  many  years  he  has  occupied  the  chair  of  Morbid 
Anatomy  in  Harvard  College,  and  has  been  instrumen- 
tal in  diffusing  a  taste  for  the  study  of  this  important 
science,  while  at  the  same  time  he  has  thrown  substantial 
light  upon  the  diagnosis  and  treatment  of  many  diseases. 
Strange  to  say.  Dr.  Jackson  has  never,  I  am  told,  engaged 
in  practice,  a  circumstance  due  probably  to  two  causes — 
his  sensitive  nature  and  the  fact  that  he  is  wealthy.  He 
has  written  v^ry  little.  With  the  vast  amount  of  material 
on  his  hands  he  ought  long  ago  to  have  produced  a  great 
work  on  pathological  anatomy. 

Mount  Auburn  Cemetery  is  said  to  present  many  attrac- 
tions to  visitors,  and  yet,  I  confess,  it  fell  behind  my  an- 
ticipations. While  the  grounds  are  fine,  as  if  nature  had 
designed  them  for  a  cemetery,  and  are  kept  in  good  order 
with  flower-beds  in  every  direction,  one  looks  in  vain  for 
elegant  monuments.  There  are  only  a  few  that  properly 
come  under  this  designation.  That  of  Nathaniel  Bow- 
ditch,  a  bronze  statue,  of  life  size,  a  good  likeness  of  the 
great  mathematician,  with  a  globe  at  his  side,  is  by  far 
the  best  of  all.  There  is  a  small  monument  erected  by 
the  city  of  Boston  to  the  memory  of  Morton,  who  was  the 
first  to  administer  ether  successfully  for  the  prevention  of 
pain  in  surgical  operations.  In  the  chapel  the  statues  of 
Winthrop,  the  first  Governor  of  Massachusetts,  of  Otis,  of 
John  Adams,  and  of  Story,  are  fine  works  of  art.     Among 


404  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

the  distinguished  dead  buried  here  are  Sumner,  Choate, 
Agassiz,  Everett,  Longfellow,  Margaret  Fuller,  and  Char- 
lotte Cushman. 

In  the  crowd  on  Wednesday  a  small  gentleman  of  very 
plain  appearance,  and  earnestly  engaged  in  conversation, 
was  pointed  out  to  me  by  a  friend  at  my  side  with  the  re- 
mark, uttered  in  a  whisper,  "That  small  gentleman  is 
Charles  Francis  Adams. ' '  I  looked,  perhaps  stared  a  little, 
but  saw  nothing  in  the  "small  gentleman"  worthy  of  spe- 
cial notice — certainly  none  of  the  characteristics  of  a  great 
man,  of  a  man  of  genius,  or  of  a  descendant  of  illustrious 
sires.  The  grandfather,  John  Adams,  was  a  man  of  short 
stature,  with  a  large  head  and  a  majestic  intellect.  John 
Quincy  Adams,  the  father,  was  of  medium  height,  with  a 
fine  head  and  a  superior  brain,  but  of  a  less  powerful  mind 
than  his  father ;  and  the  grandson,  Charles  Francis  Adams, 
and  his  children,  are  gradually  tapering  down,  intellect- 
ually speaking,  to  the  common  level,  in  accordance  with  a 
law  of  God  that  great  talent  and  genius  shall  not  long  re- 
main in  the  same  family.  The  sons  of  Clay  and  Webster 
have  been  of  little  account.  It  was  my  good  fortune  to 
meet  with  John  Quincy  Adams  in  July,  1832,  on  the  New 
Brunswick  and  New  York  steamer,  on  which  we  were 
passengers.  He  and  Mrs.  Adams  were  on  their  way  from 
Washington  City  to  Massachusetts  ;  and  I  was  on  mine  to 
New  York,  to  visit  the  cholera  hospitals.  There  were  but 
few  people  on  board,  and  Mr.  Adams  was,  of  course,  the 
observed  of  all  observers.  I  scanned  the  venerable  man 
from  head  to  toe,  and  was  particularly  struck  with  his 
large  bald  head  and  his  fine  features,  so  expressive  of  be- 
nevolence. He  had  all  the  lineaments  and  characteristics 
of  an  aristocratic  gentleman.  Few  persons  approached 
him ;  and  he  wisely  gave  the  infected  city  a  wide  berth. 
The  vessel  on  which  he  was  a  passenger  carried  him  di- 
rectly to  the  New  England  boat,  as  he  was,  like  every 
one  else,  afraid  of  the  cholera.     Mrs.  Adams  impressed  me 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.D.  405 

as  a  quiet,  dignified  lady,  nearly  of  tlie  same  age  as  her 
distinguished  consort. 

A  telegram  to-day,  July  3d,  announces  the  death  of  Dr. 
N.  R,  Smith,  the  great  surgeon,  as  having  occurred  this 
morning  at  six  o'clock,  in  the  eighty-first  year  of  his  age. 
He  was  born  in  the  town  of  Cornish,  New  Hampshire,  in 
May,  1797  ;  graduated  in  the  literary  and  medical  depart- 
ments of  Yale  College,  receiving  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Medicine  in  1823  5  lived  for  a  time  in  a  Virginia  family  in 
the  capacity  of  a  classical  instructor  ;  and  a  few  years  ago, 
under  the  name  of  "Viator,"  published  a  small  volume 
entitled  Legends  of  the  South,  consisting  of  romantic 
stories  of  life  in  Virginia  and  Kentucky.  A  long  time 
will  elapse  before  Baltimore  will  have  another  Nathan 
Ryno  Smith,  a  man  of  the  same  commanding  talents,  in- 
fluence, practical  skill,  and  professional  acumen.  A  gen- 
eration produces  few  examples  of  such  useful  and  distin- 
guished men.  I  must  not  omit  to  add  that  Dr.  Smith, 
during  the  last  five  years  of  his  life,  was  a  firm  believer 
in  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  a  constant  attendant  upon 
church,  and  a  devoted  Christian,  freely  confessing  his  sins 
before  God,  and  earnestly  preparing  himself  for  the  enjoy- 
ment of  what  he  believed  to  be  a  higher  and  better  world 
beyond  the  grave.  His  funeral  was  largely  attended  by 
all  classes  of  citizens,  but  more  especially  by  the  members 
of  his  own  profession  ;  and  flowers,  the  gift  of  loving 
friends,  in  great  abundance  covered  his  coffin.  It  was  a 
source  of  deep  regret  to  me  that  it  was  not  in  my  power 
to  be  present  on  the  sad  occasion  to  do  honor  to  a  man  to 
whom  I  was  so  warmly  attached  and  whom  I  so  greatly 
revered. 

Cape  May,  July  8th. — This  is  my  seventy-second  birth- 
day, which  finds  me  in  excellent  health  and  in  better 
spirits  than  I  was  a  year  ago.  My  children  are  very  kind 
to  me,  and  send  me  their  congratulations  and  best  wishes. 
Haller,  the  dear  boy,  with  a  heart  always  brimful  of  love 


4o6  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

for  me,  sent  me  yesterday  from  the  city  a  basket  of 
magnificent  flowers,  principally  red  and  yellow  roses, 
to  gladden  my  heart  and  grace  our  table.  Dear  Maria 
gives  me  a  beautiful  paper-cutter  and  a  small  portfolio ; 
and  the  children  pretty  little  Swiss  flower-glasses.  My 
good  little  friend,  Mrs.  Marsily,  presents  me  with  a  very 
pretty  brush,  the  top  of  which  is  enamelled  and  ornamented 
with  pansies.  If  my  dear  wife  were  not  forever  separated 
from  me,  I  should  be  perfectly  happy. 

I  left  Cape  May  on  the  morning  of  August  27th  after 
a  sojourn  of  six  weeks  spent  in  rest  and  sea-bathing. 
Every  Monday  morning  I  made  a  visit  to  the  city  to  look 
after  my  patients,  and  returned  either  the  same  afternoon 
or  the  next  day.  My  health,  in  consequence  of  this  mode 
of  life,  has  been  much  improved.  I  have  gained  flesh  and 
strength,  and  I  am  told  by  all  my  friends  that  I  look  uncom- 
monly well.  The  Stockton,  the  most  fashionable  hotel  of 
the  place,  has  been  crowded  with  visitors  ;  but  few  of  them 
were  persons  of  note.  Before  there  were  railway  facili- 
ties, many  of  the  most  distinguished  citizens  of  Philadel- 
phia and  Baltimore  went  there  to  spend  a  part  of  the 
summer,  and  the  society,  it  is  said,  was  all  that  could  be 
desired.  The  great  objection  to  Cape  May  as  a  summer 
resort  is  the  mosquito,  which,  whenever  there  is  a  land 
breeze,  is  most  annoying ;  always  hungr}^  and  always  bent 
upon  blood.  Ugly  sores  are  often  engendered  by  its  bite. 
The  bathing  is  excellent,  as  good  as  anywhere  in  the 
world,  and  better  than  at  any  other  place  along  the  New 
Jersey  shore.  Cape  May  presents  some  of  the  most  lovely 
and  gorgeous  sunsets  I  have  ever  witnessed  ;  and  the  sky, 
in  clear  weather,  is  as  beautiful  as  any  ever  seen  in  Italy. 
I  have  always  considered  sea-bathing  as  a  great  luxury, 
highly  conducive,  as  a  rule,  to  the  promotion  of  health. 
The  fight  with  the  surf  is  in  itself  an  excellent  exercise, 
and  the  action  of  the  water  upon  the  surface  an  exhila- 
rating stimulant. 


SAMUEL   D.    GROSS,   M.  D.  407 

Our  new  hospital  on  Sansom  Street,  near  the  College, 
was  opened  on  the  evening  of  September  30th,  1877,  in 
the  presence  of  a  large  and  select  audience.  An  address 
by  the  president  gave  an  account  of  the  enterprise ;  and 
in  another  address  Professor  Joseph  Pancoast  spoke  in 
graphic  terms  of  the  founder  of  the  Jefferson  Medical 
College,  Dr.  George  McClellan,  and  portrayed  the  ad- 
vantages of  clinical  instruction  to  the  medical  student. 
My  colleagues  had  requested  me  to  deliver  the  address ; 
but  as  Professor  Pancoast,  although  now  retired  from  ac- 
tive teaching,  had  been  many  years  longer  in  the  school, 
I  insisted  that  this  honor  was  due  to  him,  and  I  was 
glad  when,  after  some  hesitation,  he  finally  gave  his 
consent,  for  I  knew  he  would  perform  the  task  with  his 
accustomed  ability.  The  hospital  has  a  capacity  for 
one  hundred  beds,  and  contains  the  noblest  amphitheatre 
that  I  have  seen.  The  need  of  such  an  institution  had 
been  long  felt.  The  trustees  are  now  engaged  in  erect- 
ing, in  close  proximity  to  the  College,  workshops  for  the 
students,  wliich  when  completed,  as  they  shortly  will  be, 
will  afford  ample  accommodations  for  the  study  of  prac- 
tical chemistry,  microscopy,  experimental  physiology,  and 
minor  and  operative  surgery.  It  was  my  privilege  to  hold 
the  first  clinic  in  the  new  amphitheatre,  and  to  perform 
in  it  the  first  surgical  operation  in  the  presence  of  the 
medical  class  several  weeks  before  the  formal  opening  of 
the  hospital. 


END  OF  VOL.  I. 


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